Where is the consumer of the words unpenned?
Lurking elsewhere, its muted giggles
grotesquely mocking me
before crawling to some dark
and well-frequented balcony
over the stage of my sanity and sentiment...
The thing shivers, sneers, and points
to the boy in glass slippers
that are strong and warm for perfect feet
All of us would be better off with poor fathers
shrieking miserable curses
like the old codger
feeding the stray cats that spit at him.
The mind frames visions
of shattered windows along empty streets
where we killed the kind cats
and now their cousins are stray.
In a world of frail light,
we welcome the meat
without questioning
the work of the slaying hands.

To push forward is the first and the last
Redolent resplendent reach
Of this reality-laced drivel.
The perishing period
Intersecting curiosity and discovery.
Maybe the roads reach an end together?
Without division or shoulder to curb?
Morning routes follow evening trails,
I’ll search every path and find that place
The universe is too small to stop me now.
Hobbling, blinding, drowning – the shapes
Of sorrow are as rain to the Umbrella.
How can happening upon each other
Be blithe coincidence?
When the time for parting draws near
I will not claim destiny as providence
Or curse the shed of mortal rinds.
Life will go on to the limit
Of strength.
I know that is where I will find you.