She was like a cup of coffee.
A plain, black, cup of coffee.
She kept the world awake.

Her personality was warm,
But she had a bitter aftertaste.

A poetic
password feels
right today
as she
drew lines
parallel with
her cadence
that logic
shorten arc
of real
flatulent her
desire now
circumcise blind
interaction to
dissect lateness
but to
ensure righteous.

In Montenegro
today grow
Swiss in
diplomacy as
a filibuster
in adria
nigh in
Azerbaijan why
join forces
with The
Antilles with
Turks and
Caicos shan't
delight in
Zurich yet
once again
there's Aleppo.

A tough
guy still
his place
relives Spanish
Inquisition and
gossamer upwind
only prorogue
yesterday with
those Oxfords
on shoes,
shirt and
Otis for
trusty returns
easily now
a ghost
ware of
his Aberdeen.

We're sand, you know
Slipping through splayed fingers
Our hearts,
Are but ash filled bubbles
Carried upon the lilac,
rough winds of May
Blown by peach faced children
Sensitive to the human touch
Grasped too hard,
And a poets heart
Will burst
Should we fall,
As we so often do
We can't be caught
Promiscuous in our words
Faithful, in our dreams
We,
Ash filled bubbles
Eternally in May and lilac~A

My boyhood pocketknife
Sits in the bottom of my bedside table
My skin is healing
But I still feel a little cut
I thank God every time I leave
Say goodbye to flat land
the long stretches of road
I forget the peonies
but they still bloom in me
My old backyard is littered
with noise and ***** snow
Cold trickles into the lungs
Slowly, like it's afraid to let go
Each exhale is proof we're alive
A cloud of condensation
curling away from mouths
Small, sleeping dragons
in an even smaller city
where all the jewels are gone

If it's empty does it grow?
earthless roots reaching out
floating idly, belly up
dreaming in a glass of water
rich, dark soil
a sky with no roof
freedom beyond walls
and the sun without a window