Monday, July 10, 2017


I exist, a wraith in this forest of moonlight, mountain air, and gnarled branches amid foggy dreams. A rogue snowflake, nomadic on the wind, gives its sole performance, spinning and shimmering with determination and catching an updraft now and then as if to spite the dreadful pull of earth. Between the grim reminder of the ticking second hand, my form emerges from the clouds. I am mortal once again. And there she is, her petite body in my arms, her scent filling my lungs. Dearest love, how I long for your terse rebuttals and splendid criticisms. I wander through the underbrush and find the water's edge. The bullfrog croaks and I am reminded of ducks and loons and the perfection of your profile against the rippling waves. Arbitrary measurement moves us from our resting places and returns us to temporal affairs. Gone are the trees and their rustling leaves; gone are the lapping waves on the shoreline; gone are the days of life and breath.

Wednesday, June 28, 2017


To go back again to a place you have never been. To hold animosity in a handsome timepiece. Watch my hands, slight these freedoms, enter with the wind. Not a scent. Pretend with your heart, these dolls live, and they open doors, and they slaughter innocents. To move backwards in the blackest rain. To dissect my melancholy trials upon the bedrock to which I crumble. I envy the stitching on my suitcase. Place these branches in suspended animation. A dance to sheathe the sword, that troublesome thorn, on which to toss the chum of guilt and shame. Lick these ashes. Eat this corpse. Find my descendants and murder them all. Downward as the arrow reunites with earth.

Monday, April 10, 2017

Page 394

Make a choice and divide a line.
All just one turn in time.
Just relax, if you dare,
speak the words that go right here.

Down and back and battles one,
seven paths on which to run.
Here we are again.
Cover up but not to hide,
to seek and sneak and make a find.
What do you long for deep inside?
Tell me, please, I beg you.

One-thousand years has come to this:
one last final deadly kiss.
Breathe me in. Breathe. Me. In.
Walk those forbidden halls and talk to those awful walls;
hear that voice, that wretched call.
What trouble you are in.
This is where the end begins.

Play your game and change your name,
but your voice sounds just the same.
Keep your hands dry,
feel free to panicked,
and run a little faster.
Move a bit closer, you fool.
Who is who in this disaster?

Follow the steps and remember a time,
feel it burning up your spine,
release the power pent inside.

Young in years, perhaps,
but the only star upon my map.
Drug me, slug me, love me.
Tonight in the glow of that which cannot be reached,
on my face these moonbeams creep.
And I must turn.
I have no choice.
Please run.

Monday, March 27, 2017


If there a place to be alone,
I want to find this place.
Solace evades my step.
Closer each day and somehow just as distant.
I hear birds as they lust for one another.
My freedom rests in a dungeon I cannot reach.
The pure of heart trample flowers without a hint of remorse.
Better things. Better days.
Someday that never dawns.
Impulses and wishes.
A pendulum weighted with a rich man's gold.
Swing, oh great machines of revolution.
Keep my time. This is my destiny, my fate, my becoming.
If there is a place to be alone with you, I want to find this place.
In my dreams, a forest without birds and flowers;
an unmeasured moment without intrusion.
Lock me in this cell and leave me to bleed out.
I long for death yet suffer only the silence of a heartbroken raven.

Friday, March 10, 2017


These little haunted things I call my thoughts,
I lock them up in this ornate box.
Turn the key: click, click, click.
Here I am, not quite dead but deathly sick.
It scratches, belches, kicks and knocks,
whatever is in this tiny box.
Swallow the key and don a crown,
but I only want to put it down-
alas, I cannot, this is my fateful lot.
Stomach aches and keys and locks.
There is no cure, no secret door;
everything is as it was before.
Almost. Not exactly. Not precisely.
And lastly, it comes back and back and back and back and back and back.
Hymns of revelation.
Leave me at the altar.
She looked back but I did not faulted.
Spread your wings and flap, flap, flap.
Jabs and stabs and bloody rags,
all torn and tossed and left for dead;
here I am within my head;
yet not alone this time.
There is a visitor: a quiet, timid soul;
a beautifully dark traveler.
Terrified, I would expect, given the complexity of this triviality.
Will you play and will you stay or will you simply run away and leave me here with my box and with my crown and awful thoughts?
To ache and cry and drown and die?
Interesting, nonetheless, to welcome such an unexpected guest.
Give it space and do not kill it,
not just yet, not until I can regret.
That is how we measure friends: by their ends and by amends and by and by and bye.

Friday, January 27, 2017


Carry the roses.
Take love in small doses.
Exhale this fractured blackness.
Step backwards.
Immolate the space.

As surely as the beasts of purgatory lust for blood, I crave bliss.
Ignite my veins, pure ether. 
I am forced to say this.
Afflictions I cannot trace.
Fate I cannot taste.
A test I cannot fake.

And on this night, alone with my smoldering imagination, I weep tears of lunacy. I stretch my mortal hands to the heavens above and curse the conspiracy that haunts this skeletal wreck.

Break me.
Hate me.
Forsake me.
I am restrained in these remains.
For a time.

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Friday, December 16, 2016

December’s Eyes

Shattered glass reflecting pain
Refracting love
A ring of polished stone
Infinite wells of stardust
Webs of beautiful lies
Catch me as I fall
A forest to be lost in
Embers of imagination
The labyrinth of the soul
Bury my sins
Give me a graveyard to die in
Hope, fear, wonder, screaming—
Questions, doubts, fears
Flicker, flicker, flicker
Something restrained
Something dark
Ink stained memories
Blood stained regrets
Undefined. Unnamed. Disowned.
Divide my existence into equal pieces
And let me go

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