I smell it Here
The death of books
Whose prayers drift to nowhere
On the wings of ringlet smoke
I hear immortal authors
Those flammable Flamels
Who believed in their own ability
To turn ink to gold
Whose leather-bound brains crack
And whither with every shimmer
Of the heated air
Their words do nothing now but coat my lungs in ***** flakes of ash.
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 1:00 AM UTC
Satellites grow like barnacles out of rooftops
Bringing to us sights and sounds that sprout like anemones in our minds
Their blinking lights and metal forms are idols to their purpose
The rain did not come from the sky, it welled up from the rooftops and poured down on our heads
They told us, “get your hammers, get your nails, you’re gonna need a boat”
I wonder why I can’t just lay my head back and float
Ever since the flood started, Grandma’s been staring out the window
She says “that rain’s just not the way it used to be”
I don’t look up, too busy learning how to swim
She smiles and knits another coat, she says the rain is awfully cold
I haven’t slept a bit since all this water has appeared
My car was carried off and now I’m living on the streets
But even streets can only stay dry so long
I went into a seven eleven and saw the puddles in the aisles
I stole some chips and got out quick
I knew the rain was coming soon
A whale is singing near my head
It’s leaned against the glass
I know he’s trapped for now, but soon the waves will let him out
My teacher calls me once again
But water’s sloshing in my head
She yells “we have to leave!”
But I’m too busy smiling at the whale
He speeds away
And sings a song
The water pins me down but he is gone
I stand atop a mountain climbed with only my bare hands
The water laps at my bare feet
The highest beach in the world
And I put my towel down first
Everyone else is swimming
I sit and see the sun go down behind the ocean for the last time
What a beautiful end to the day
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 10:52 PM UTC
I often wander past her gallows
And feel a sympathetic twinge
At glints of sun on growing rifts
I long to hear her sing
My fingers itch to hold the mallet
Molded to her brazen form
A tongue, once ripped from quiet lips
It rests, with ears, unworn
If treasured glance is counted higher
Than the purest ringing note
Then may she hang still, gagged in silence
“To Liberty!”, I quote
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 1:09 PM UTC
Awash in dancing sea glass light
I watch the ocean late at night
But I have never been
The only ocean that I know
Is filled with wintry frozen snow
That God did not intend
I wander cross it in a fright
While tripping often as it’s night
And slipping on the snow
An owl wings above my head
Reminding me of seagulls led
By merchants to the coast
A barrel loaded to the brim
And sailors singing salty hymns
Assault my ears and nose
I grasp the rough hewn timber rail
And hear the snapping of the sail
Among the clapping waves
The salty air upon my tongue
Turns dark and rough and then we plunge
Upon a pitching swell
A glowing branch lights up the sky
I see it though I’ve closed my eyes
And shines upon some hell
I know it from my darkest fears
And shun such moaning from my ears
All thought has lost its perch
Wait, no more am I staring out
Aloof, aghast, about to shout
Now I see ice-glazed birch
They shiver slightly with the cold
A breeze picks up and takes its hold
On sounds from far away
A quiet whisper fills my head
The voice that wracks a soul with dread
And grabs me by the feet
I stand there frozen to my spot
But seeing only driftwood rot
And float away from me
The icy hand that grasped my throat
And pricked my skin and thinned my coat
Now plays his lilting harp
I fall into a deepened sleep
His lullaby like counting sheep
And nod off in the snow
When I awake, a tropic storm
Has thundered in to greet with warm
But hellish gusts of air
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 6:07 PM UTC
If the earth had a temple
Surely it would be the ocean
With its stained-glass fish
And its stately silver sands
Its keening choir of whales
And rocking sermon of waves
The world above is not
A foreign paradise
With its broken-glass windows
And its dingy gas-stained streets
Its keening choir of mothers
And angry sermons of men
If the earth had a temple
Our world would be its end.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 10:25 PM UTC
A spiral of light, like music to my eyes
I spun out into the golden grass
The stars shining brightly above me
Only seconds ago the vortex that seemed to knock me down
I heard a laugh, but no one was there
Maybe it was the stars
The moon was too kind to laugh
My silver feet began to work again
Daring the stars to tip me twice
The dampened earth beneath my twirling soles
A cushion when the dare was done
I laid there then, but
Only long enough to find Pegasus
Until I heard the muffled steps and swishing grass
As others wandered from the trees
Their candles sad mirrors
Of the vortex in the sky
One by one they challenged the stars
That tucked them all in to a bed of laughter and golden grass
I watched as they disappeared beneath the waving fronds
Until I could feel the hands of the stars readying the finale
Pulling me into a spiral of sweat and lazy zephyrs
They too knew that this was the last dance
But still I whispered up to their shining choir
Daring them to stop time.
Their hands were on their pocket watches
Pulling out the gears
A wish so close to granting you could hear the crickets pause
Yet soon they stirred
The spiral pushed, but laughter pushed it back
No longer harmonizing to their melodic lights
I fell again
This time over a root
My silver feet tarnished to grey
And lost their shine walking back through the woods
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 11:04 PM UTC
Her red lips like the roses of a cracking stained glass window
When she leaned in to whisper her secret
The words falling from them like demons through a gate
Into a crumbling church
Into my ear
I had sat in those pews
With zealous eyes and thoughts upon those lip-red roses
But one by one her demons came like whispers
And cracked the red stained window like a breaking heart
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 9:31 PM UTC
I am a garden just waiting to let spring in
I stand frozen now with wind blown tufts in the air
Nothing but a blankness, as suits the harsher months
I wait for the signal to unclasp my sprigs
To make known my blooming blush
To let down my head of greenery
And fill the empty space where I have slumbered
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC
They ask me why I am quiet but I don’t answer, I am not quiet I am silent
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 5:37 PM UTC
May I propose a fifth season
It’s anytime you feel happy
And the world suddenly shifts
Rain becomes music
And sunlight happy dancers
Leaves fall like inhibitions
And snow comforts warmly
This season is universal
No happiness is equatorially dependent
A smile is a smile
In rain or sun or leaves or snow
The world can be changed
By a glimpse of the fifth season
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 12:41 AM UTC