A detective married a witch.
In a few years, he wanted a switch.

He slinked and slunk out every night,
and thought he kept his sins out of sight.

But one thing he could not hide from her nose,
the scent of strange perfumes on his clothes.

One night when the hour was late,
she conjured a fitting fate.

She cast a spell.
He fell down in a well.

So it came as no surprise,
no one ever got wise.

For the only man who could solve the case
was lying forever and ever, in a very dark place.

Little Billy's best friend was a tree.
One day his parents had it chopped,
and the pieces were shopped.
So little Billy put rat poison in their tea.

one sunday in the park
i sat across from a woman in white
her head was hidden
beneath a big pale hat

and a dachshund
with a sunshine yellow collar
sat at her feet
brown eyes
droopy and searching
   staring

as i ate
a hot dog with mustard

sunshine yellow

orange umbrella
lying open on the grass

or

sunset
over a green sea

what's behind our eyes these days
is it memories
or dreams
of things yet unseen

what's behind them these days
history, hope, damage and pain
a cluster of neurons
igniting the brain

besieged by screens
with eyes of their own
that record and reflect
all they've been shown

are we any different
have our eyes turned to ice
milky and blank
a clean recording device

what's behind our eyes these days
is anything trapped and want to break free
the answer is very simple
open them and see

glassy black shoes
pinpoint tie
razor keen cuffs
and a sugary smile

he comes clickety-clack
heels eating blacktop
lies on his tongue
licking a black lollipop

one hand in his pocket
ready to make a deal
his eyes sparkle
your soul he can feel

if you want some advice
don't dare shake his hand
he's filling his library
with the hearts of the ******

eyeglasses nestled in the fluffy snow
frosted, with a single crack
bouncing winter sun off my tarnished window
a glint of hidden history from below
it sent me on a journey way, way back

a memory of reflected light
off a tree lined lake where i swam as a child
all day until the moon gave birth to night
and the sky was black with pinholes of white
a remembrance long ago filed

delivered back to me by a frozen emissary
whose lenses are no longer fit for eyes
whose rounded frames are a bit ordinary
but found one final way to be visionary
as a door unlocked by a cold, powdery sunrise