the old, black moon
does not shine tonight.
he’s been eaten since noon
and gone from sight

the bright, bubbly sun
has lost his luster too.
hopes shining for none
despair opened anew

the vast, dreary void
never shined before
yet bright enough to destroy
it flares a color abhorred

Your skin
paper thin
peels away
when I touch
like a brush
there is sludge
pooled underneath
the residue
of thinking through
the theories
of deities
and karma
arising
from leaving me
alone in peace
to slowly rot
eyes turned inwards
collapsing
egg
rosebud
samsara
beats
like a drum
the unending thrum
of human hearts
and the earth
resonating
repeating
growing restless.

Little bird
Where has your flight gone
Where has your fight gone
Have you lost your way?

Little bird
Where is your fire
Where is that desire
Why have you gone astray?

Who has singed your wings
Clipped you from the sky
Why have you fallen
So far away?

Sprawled in a nest of ashes
And dust,
Tears of melted sorrow
Broken trust
Little bird-
Please fly back to us.

Little bird
Spread your feathers of
Smoldering ash
And let them rage
Release your flame
Cry out-
With a spark
Re-ignite your flight
And rise.

He grazed up my brickwork
I watched him float back to black
I hope he never comes back
Big Loud Man interrupting my
evening cereal

I flirted with
the sun as it
blushed
pink
through the trees,
their naked branches
spread wide,
wet with dew.
Sticky sweet
dawn
winked with the
promise of a new day.
Swans mate for
life
and die in the spring.
And she
lied a little less than
the moon, and
the fog, and the
wet cat drunk on
feline dreams.
Her eyes looked like
they hated her face;
like they
wanted to
leap out, and
roll down the street,
find a mountain brook to
wash off all they had seen.
She saw too much...
felt too much,
as the fractured dawn
laughed
and flew away like
a mockingbird.