When dreams fall from a clear sky,
We cannot decide what form they take
Governed by the spinning, tilted sphere
That beats in each chest
The undulating massage of sprinkled mist
Can just as true be the gale-driven torrent;
Whatever the form,
Our arms,
The ones we train in reverie to be strong,
We choose to open wide,
To accept that fate we cannot see,
Or to tuck them shut
Closed to all those meant to be embraced
Though we thought it finished,
With rain ceased,
A specter soon appears,
One we ourselves conjure as we taste the memory
Of what our arms beheld that all-important day
When we look below,
We summon the old familiar ghost,
That which springs from the now-watered earth,
From the soil of a mind tilled in guilt
The blooming poltergeist of shadowed past
Haunting, ever haunting,
Till we choose to stop the rain
With a thought, nay, a faith,
That was trained by—
No, trained on—us
When we look above,
From there, where the rain began,
Comes the spirit,
The divine-appointed friend,
Strongest from its source,
Who smooths the tilled earth
And softens it to soften us
We cannot then but fall to our knees
Not to till again
But to embrace
With weakened arms the crop of that faith
That once sat beneath mountains
Now moved
We cannot choose the rain
But we alone decide in time
Which version of ourselves we grow
A choice made by where we find our ghost
Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 4:05 PM UTC
The all-imperfect, perfect eye
Selects the flaws to magnify
The brokenness of every place
But most of all his perfect face
The all-imperfect, perfect ear
Amplifies what he can’t hear
Their judgments neither thought nor heard
He fancies from a careless word
The all-imperfect, perfect grin
Conceals his every waking sin
His teeth a whitewashed brick-wall shell
Protecting words he’ll never tell
The all-imperfect, perfect skin
Repulses friend and foe and kin
His colors warn of toxic touch
Alight so they won’t see him such
The all-imperfect, perfect nose
Detects a stench in every rose
He registers from wind and breeze
Whatever acrid smell he please
The all-imperfect, perfect heart
Can only ever be restart
From tending what long past has died
A nursing of the child inside
Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 12:46 AM UTC
The dragon said he wanted more,
So when he left, there were but four
The gnome preferred we let her be,
Then soon we saw there were but three
The giant wanted something new
Alas, we found there were but two
And last, I set the puppy free
And now I saw there was but me.
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 1:39 PM UTC
They crumble under piercing rays
When rays do have their say
These buildings formed from weaker stock
That builders cut from clay
Old rooms at home are dusted clean
Beyond those empty floors
And painted with a bright new hue
On top of favored mores
Peering into glimmered night
They watch the buildings fall
And wonder at their newfound space
Though awkward, old, and tall
These homes feel like another place
Without their stiff decrees
Secured with broken locks and bolts
To still our trembling knees
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 1:38 PM UTC
A river that once bore blood and wine
Is dammed into rivulets of cracked earth
Water trickled to a still moment
At the confluence of pain and peace
On that side of the valley
Set above the emerald canopy
Is the calm for which we cry these tears
For now, we wait
Eyes lifted
Shivering at the ****** of wind from the other side
Which dips and curves around **** and greed alike
To embrace what is left of us
A fire erupts
Scorching the ageless chaff that we've gathered
At feet long stunned still
Believing it our only warmth
We're left with a barren earth
At once feared and wanted
For at pain's end
The land can be filled
With verdant flora
Worth the tending
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 1:36 PM UTC
While you know that most men seem unflawed from without
Though obscured through the inundant rain
You continue to feel all the question and doubt
That compels you to scrub your own stain
Though the window through which you perceive such a scene
Keeps you safe, so it seems, by the breach
Still the rain that you see is your self-imposed screen
Which allows you to hide out of reach
Were it washed of its filth to allow you the day
You would find that your fear was for naught
Were the thousands of voices proved right in their say
You would learn the sheer fault of your thought!
But the chains that here weigh on those atrophied arms
Are too burdensome now but to lift
So your plan to steer fate against all kinds of harms
Remains idle from fears of the shift
In its stead it is hope that reverses this fear
Overwrought as you feel from your way
That the stalemate life of a floundering queer
Would pierce through the still nebulous gray
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 1:35 PM UTC
Beauty found in matchless form
When dancers train their grace
Can lack the ****** of inner storm
That moves men from their place
Instead it invites cool applause
From those who know us not
For never will it give them pause
To take in what we’ve taught
But those who waltz authentic stride,
Though lacking perfect frame,
Will aid their fellow men inside
To dance there none the same
While perfect steps may leave one awed,
They seldom birth a shift
But fear’s unspoken promenade
Will yield a matchless gift.
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 1:32 PM UTC
Anger is that cruel master
Whose chains compel
The things we say and do
For in his cell, there is no light
To test and clarify your view
Escape him, and your enemies
Stay tame and few
So when he comes, be warned,
For this one thing stays true:
You must control him,
Or he will control you.
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 1:22 PM UTC
The eyes of one see darkness in the sky,
Within the cosmos a fruitless revelry;
They witness hell unchecked and miles high,
Deceit as common as droplets in the sea;
Their tears poured hot in vain find no reply,
For all the empty pain and iniquity.
Another's see the coming death of night,
Inside our world an ebullient panoply;
Their paths laid bare from flames that give them sight,
Truth their only root that nourishes the tree;
The tears that fall give passion to their fight
For all that fills man's hearts with nobility.
Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 4:04 PM UTC