Before taking out a clean sheet of paper,
I hold before the blue of the window
a freshly-sharpened pencil pointing toward heaven
and blow the imperceptible dust
from the needle-tip
before getting down to business.
For in life’s long journey
few things afford greater satisfaction
than turning the crank
and powering the cylindrical burrs
of a mechanism which sharpens
the dulled mind of a yellow number 2 pencil.
In the silver pencil sharpener
I witness the marriage of utility and beauty
—a model for art and a purpose for life
celebrated each morning before this small altar.

vanishing hope
for consumption as a way of life
obese children shovel pharmaceuticals
down the throats of the infirm
internally developing low-tone hymns
relating to slow death by corporate greed –
albino judicators
pass melanin laws
felonizing  the populace
perpetuating the proletariat
while pontificating
on the post 9/11 society –
isolated rabble-rousers
screaming at eggshell walls
dislodge tacks holding together
the fabric of American culture
with ingrown and chewed fingernails
flailing armies
think back to trench warfare –
robust midwives mediate
heated discussions
as the United Nations blindly
support U.S. imperialism
looking for kickbacks
from energy companies
globalization giving all humanity
incurable S.T.D.’s –
the last free house mouse
bounds betwixt the ruins
energetically sniffing the rubble
seeking some small morsel
to satisfy its hunger –

I don't know what to write anymore.
But I can't stop thinking about flickers of your lips
and splatters of your touch.
When the rain pours just for you.
Something has to flow.
When water runs over your shoulders and down the drain
like the wisdom of the world.

In the brevity of your light I stole a slice of the sun for my own.
Lying deep inside a dormant orbit.

As the rain begins to weigh you down like the gravity of Jupiter.
My light, my love will be all yours.

Lay with me and tonight we'll steal the moon once more.

The time has been
short but the days
drag on like years.
The past is sin
but still it stays
in our worst fears.
Collapsing in the shadows,
is the bridge you
and I built together.
Even over years close,
its stayed strongly through
all worse and better.

Until a month ago.

The gap of patience
waiting for you again
to ascend has grown
deeper and wider so
it tears all sense,
no place to defend,
Until my heart's sound
fades away in the wind.
A soft and lonely cadence.