You are screaming at me and I'm in tears
your face peeled back
in deep contempt of my need
I am just a little boy and my head hurts and it
is a sin to hope that my aspirin could be cut

because I can't swallow the pills and they get
stuck in my throat, burning. My head is
spinning

and I'm falling down, a shaken baby
syndrome..
black around my eyes--
which one of you shook me?
Who did this to me, I'm just a little boy
peaceful in heart,
yet horror stricken; and the anger builds
Unexpressed words defining injustice, are
swallowed

once again, deeper:    evil excels in its clothing
a child in shame, within the denial of its own wrongdoing.
Years of hard work, dismantle the shame..
remove condemnation's heavy, mantle;
but this rage.. this deeply embedded injustice-scream?

A lifetime has not enough years to  undo
what the locusts have eaten

And I am only half of it...
a ***** in my armor, and I fall
A cheap shot, my hands now empty
the fire of my temple, now dust..

Lay me there, beside her--
she, that tore me down, she who I now
forgive
a beautiful boy, a broken son
in death, makes his peace with mom
his burial place, once again
back, in her arms

This is the home I choose
I forgive you, Momma, be my resting-place now,
my home--

my anger, my hatred.. contempt
purged, by cremation's holy fire
all glory and honor,  now yours

as the once-broken little boy
curls up safely, in your arms
Your beautiful son has returned,
back home:

     God.. and a mother's love,
                             rest his soul.

when the ghost of the dark cried for sunset
and the darkness arrived like a storm
the cliffs all angular and windswept
to wait long for the blossoms of dawn,

the dark all a seascape of blackness
a dance that soon opened every door
the clouds darkest grey, hardly
senseless,
the waves that blue anchored
the shore.

our love was a drifting of sorrow
like a tide only longing to flow
baptised while it waits for the morrow,
the moon’s tender orb all aglow,

when i kiss you beneath the
bright starlight
each star throws a fisherman’s
net,
and your flesh tastes like silvery
moonlight,
like the first night we met.

the late clouds gather their silver
the wind blows like the song of a ghost,
and my heart pounds like a
burgeoning river,
and all time in its fever is lost.

the storm’s edge blows open the
window,
the shutters pushed out from the sill
the clouds are a story of sorrow,
the evening all chill,

the night hangs her clothes in
her wardrobe
the sun sleeps like a cloudy
old bear
and all of my love like a snow
globe
white petaled, moon-scented and fair.

i dream of you like a silvery ocean
whose tide ever beats ever back
your love all a hypnotic potion
painted silver and black.

She, is that flower unopened,
in quieter moments,
she washes him clean,
a theme behind secrets
unspoken,
not of ether, nor clay,
but of somewhere between.

He, with his pallid complexion,
loves nothing of Earth,
even less of the air,
for all that are given
direction,
are places or houses
that she cannot share...