I send you a white dove, my love,
in bits 'n bytes, not very romantic,
though when carefully reconstructed
a key to liberate thy chastity, I'm unrepentant.

Powder of ashes like snowfall in winter

The air and army withered in a splinter

Smoky-grey flaky leaves dead and forgotten

Each cobblestone tinted and tainted

Things of dishearten

I stand in the middle of a big large road

With ashen embers resting on my lashes

My coat and tote limp from the bashes

People lay, some far away and some grey,

The death spell cast on all the bay

I feel a tug in my heart,

Shocked at the sight

Cursed fates for a deadly plight

I stand alone, guilty for having survived

No goodbyes or funerals to leave me teary-eyed

The carpet of carcasses in front of me lay

Left me with loud realization of a lonesome foray

I wished I were blamed for their unjustified departure

Or for my survival inexplicable in any form of literature

The sky now looks a faded rotten orange

With the embers settled like a thick mat on the ground

Suddenly the sound of tip tap made me jump

From my lost thoughts.

My coat and tote comes back to life

I feel a tug and around my calf a hug

The most innocent eyes looked up at me

And said, “Mommy, I want to go home please…”

My lipless
silver teeth, icicles,
a hundred tiny razors
on a hungry blade
biting away
at my fleshy meal;
playing a
grotesque form
of tic-tac-toe;
with whom?
Does it matter?
Not really; only for
this bite, I live;
the copper
complements
my own metallic flavor;
the accidental
slip, or not
so much...
A wince. I mark
my final X,
two jagged
red lines;
in triumph, I drink
my sweet
merlot; a toast,
to my opponent,
my partner;
we have both won.

Sly second skin hanging off my bedpost or
curled under my pillow.
It climbs into my dreams,
snugs up against me, the thinnest safest skin.
These words are my epidermis
pulled tight over me like a hood or a sheet
or socks and I can tell
anyone anything.

After a brush with death
his eyes were like kaleidoscopes
the scene reflected himself in relation
to an ever changing world

he felt impermance
in an after glow
as the sun decended behind
the mountain's asylum

Soldier Summit's quieted railroad
an attraction to some
but for others a refuge
after a long and hateful dawn

May their souls rest in peace
those who eternally are blanketed by snow
and may the moutains speak
to the survivors who fight to reach the top of them