i believe,
even the stars
get tired.
when the night sky
had folded them away
back into the darkness
and the moon,
that lonesome thing,
has doused itself in shadows.
so will you too, my friend
shy away from the light
as if it would burn
if it reached you.
maybe you feel,
you just are not strong enough
to face the day.
that the midnight hour
is a broken thing
and oh, the silence
is deafening.
and you and i know, even the stars
are tired.
you mourn for them
as their light expires.
Oct 13, 2023
Oct 13, 2023 at 6:44 AM UTC
My bones ache
My eyes are hot and raw
I am utterly cast out to sea
Unanchored
Treading water in a vast expanse of terrifying blue turbulence
I shout into the empty nothingness
Driving the air out of my lungs to call for you
"Where are you?"
"Please don't leave"
"I am not ready..."
But you are gone
and my voice echoes in the deep
like the devastating and futile cries of the last Kauaʻi ʻōʻō bird searching for a mate who will not come
Oct 13, 2023
Oct 13, 2023 at 6:41 AM UTC
Autumn is a Greek sea,
A summation of wet leaves,
Gathered wicks of sunset,
A hypocaust of warm water,
That lies beneath our feet,
Incense from the Sea of Crete,
Risen to the airy suggestive.
Autumn is a word in the mind, fallen leaf-like to the mouth,
How like the orange rind, our ancient past is shriveled under pillars.
May 30, 2022
May 30, 2022 at 4:26 PM UTC
There is a world outside my window
it screams and rushes and roars
Relentlessly in motion
a ceaseless current
of to and from
coming and going (“Wynberg !?”)
that batters against my walls
Even the trees
thrash about
in an angry hurried cadence
“You must not keep still!” everything shouts
Yet I remain
in stasis
cut off from the boundless energy
that proudly moves on and on and on
Jun 21, 2021
Jun 21, 2021 at 7:56 AM UTC
bluebells flower in the rain,
boy of love,
buttercups on long stems
full of summer’s gold,
the world opens its doors and windows
the air feels fresh and clear,
sadness weaves its way under the trees
prefers to wait in the shadows,
i dream about you a lot,
boy of love.
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 4:33 AM UTC
The fingers of a dying sun reach through my blinds
and find me
Absorbed by thoughts of you
Shafts of sleepy light **** me
gold seeps in and marks my cheek
I wish it were you
Caressing my back and brushing my jaw and stretching across my bed
But it is not.
So for now I contend with the touch of a dipping sun
gradually swallowed by a jealous horizon.
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 4:31 AM UTC
The mountains whisper across the rugged earth
Echos upon echos shimmering through the millennia
A language far preceding the etchings of men, scratched into the ground.
Reverberating through the depths of rock and soil and stone.
A creaking between the roots, steeping into the mantle, and into the sky.
A silent dialogue, between the above and the below, and the within and the around.
An undercurrent that flows unheard beneath the flimsy corrupting crust of mankind,
We are visitors, and it is not our song the mountains sing.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC
Spiraling
down
a pit
of anxiety.
When suddenly
A
f
r
e
e
f
a
l
l
headfirst
short
sharp
burst.
And then
P r o c r a s tination
spilled un e ve nly
on a tiled bathroom floor.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 6:30 AM UTC
There is a creature in the night.
It is the wind that races around street corners
And taps on your shutters.
It is the cold silent blue lurking between slumbering rooftops.
It is the sliver of pockmarked white that casts a slinking shadow
As she climbs up the black.
It is the leaves of the oak,
Whispering
Whispering
Whispering.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 4:48 PM UTC
2 am,
and the thoughts of you envelop me.
Your name is whispered in the blue dark.
Memories flutter uninvited.
The bruising on my heart has not faded.
Not yet.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC