Black smoke on the mountain
bends over the moon like flies
around rines all fed up
with the night, like a bloated
face floating by in the river
sleeping through
death's long montage,
that dark mistress sipping
gin on a balcony with no wind,
her curtains still as a blanket
placed over the drowned.

I love you
a million stars and moons
Of planets we can't see

Be true to who you are,
Because you are amazing.

I feel like the color of
A post super moon sky
Like the last of the leaves on the wet,
Cold November tree
Hanging on for dear life
Like the flame that's too shy to really ignite
But breaks up the dark,
Grey dismal sky
Flashes of drowned out orange
Thrashing around
The post super moon sky

Poke at charred logs
Sparks lift and fall
With each gust of breath I blow
In the blink of an eye
Fire ignites
Warming my homeless bones

isolation is nowhere
near your salvation.

The path of the sun, with its arrows shooting us home
the light, the lulling moon miles, the night roads we travel
in vast fields of star flowers we are born, reflections in the river
floating we ride, wildly glide, some days on the smooth tides
with these eyes, sometimes half blind
we live and dance, we hide, we fade and die
all too soon only a ghostly glow,
a glimmer in the blue water.

A Robin, sang by lamplight,
unperturbed by herald evening’s
gathering throng..
As if gloom could be dispersed
by an almost, fragrant burst
of poignant song.

The carriage clocks whirr
now the hour has spoken
it ceases to be..
Oh to placate those
untouchable hands
of fortune and destiny.