Poetry
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2006-2-6 Stand in time,Lie in light. There you are, Projecting a memory. Where you look, the sun. And there you live, words on tongue and paper. Set your brilliant sun away, it never matters 'til the jealous blade strikes — when you bleed your tears. |
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2006-2-6 Stand in wait.Lie in light. Here am I, remembered in shadow. All around — the sun. But here I wait, sword in hand and sheath. Spill this darkness over me, it never matters 'til the jealous blade strikes — when you bleed your tears. |
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2005-11-28 In this ancient garden are tales of life,of love, hate, and all found within shared souls. Here sits today and all tomorrows' strife, seeking a perfect word for friendship's fold. This garden's pair harvests the sparkling dew, like private gods in a heart's stardrop rain. Each feeds a dreamseed of creation's clues, showing bedfellows that one word again. In time, mem'ry-filled plants did grow and bloom, and poetic minds praised them, unworried. Not a fine word, but poet's dreams were mused, for star-crossed friends found all words unworthy. In this zion are tales of our seasons, and perfect nameless words beyond reasons. |
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2005-9-26 'Twas in the late and hasty September,When we oft regret and less remember. There a was boy with specs, fro, and racket, So sought he the bouncing ball to whack it. And as this golden clown did play quite swell, We found it was the hair that did him well. For it was quite bright in this ping pong game, but the glare was blocked by his curly mane. |
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2005-8-31 One for Sleep wellTwo for The lip smack Three for I love you A baker's dozen for the accusation of lies One for Routine Two for Thoughtlessness Three for I love you A baker's dozen for satin severed in shortness Thirty-two wounds from this bed of nails |
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2005-8-11 Sea beams,from sunlit waters beyond many eyes' reaches. Scarce these, like molten glass insight into soul's meanings. Mind breeze, for distant laughs after breathing-souls' lifetimes. Thought shells, erudition unknown within eyes' gazes. Light wells, like prophet-lies upon sibyl's tale's accuracy. Question, for restless thoughts amidst theory-proof's fiction. |
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2005-8-1 These hands boil the waterand she drinks the herbs and sugar. A twitch in her face and... scar in her voice. She used to be better at sipping. Now she can't hold the cup. It's not that I've a mug, it's that I always swallow first. The tea is good, but I wish... that it could tickle her first sometimes. Though, she'd probably stop brewing it, rather than taking my brew more freely. |
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2005-7-25 How many?You voices... How many are there? Where are the others? Limitless. You are us. We're fortune tellers. Where all gypsies are. |
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2005-7-25 Where am I?Oh where am I? This life of mine, was once divine. It seems I've forgotten my name. There's not a trace in my veins. Blue that was brilliant as she, and now it has left behind me. Minds that shine, not one like thine. The warmth I knew was always you. It seems I've forgotten my name. There's not a trace in my veins. Clouds have forgotten to be, what now I've forgotten to see. Wish I was. I wish I was. That I could now, redeem my vow. It seems I've forgotten my name. There's not a trace in my veins. Words that you've always heard free: Soer ol holour ol Molly Words you've heard only from me: Soer ol holour ol Molly |
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2005-6-17 There is a splice in meJust to the left Just under my breast Neither burn nor sting is its function Not to heal Not to mend This hole is to attach A cord of intangibility A web of uplinks I'm plugged in Or they're plugged in Or people are insane This is my secret I know I know That is the revelation All mysticism All truth I must be numb She agrees She makes sarcasm real I was never what I said Implied is my cord Implied by the obvious characters Legend is my life Am I their story Am I their soul or am I hers? |
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