I:

In which
I

amid the
whirring lights

and emerald
felt

drift
through a

raucous
flashing casino

searching

for a
table

with an open
chair

so I can
finally start

to play
the game


II:

In which all of us
are together again at last

for a family gathering—
Thanksgiving supper, perhaps—

and, as we greet each other,
I happen to glance skyward,

unthinking,
and notice that clouds

of a turbid
cumulonimbus gray

are beginning to coalesce overhead.

I look up again and notice
that they have spun

into dozens of funnel shapes,
each of them

starting to reach down for us
like the ashen fingers of Death.

We huddle down in the cellar,
praying the storm will pass.

Here he lies
Barefoot and broken
We seek the sky we seek the ocean
On branded hands we face the glare
His halo thorns and battle stare
On paper pages till the strong
To weep to heaven daylight long
Force and figure in the way
Shes shattered, tattered enveloping
She reaps the garden numbing tomb
Her castlight shakes and rakes the day
Like leaves fallen in a silver hush
Snow and ice and what they took
Capitulates the falling glow
Of suns and stars and what they know
I glide like thoughts across the glass
Of minds and hearts
All fleeting fast
Within the snow beyond the pain
The roughed edge completes his game the flame to hand
And hand to flame
The long slow run of vivid veins
Has taken now my shell of shame
Beyond the depth before the blame
Her singing song like deep blue rain
And hunger in the cave with shadow

Newly oriented to certain fragrance
Spring whiffs may never smell the same
Coming out of nowhere, like elopement
or questionless death; perfume or incense

Redolence of planting garlic cloves
Also inhalation of hyacinth gives dissimilar
but now current to what may be good
or more thought provoked with profundity

Deepness sets in and pushes out
All goes on, but different
What's certain is, baseball season has started
and batters will have whiffs

Listen to the crying cats at the pianos

and the howling dogs at the bars

Swallow a pit until it's jammed in your throat

and try not to cry out,

Eat my soul, and spit it all out.

Wrapped around my skulls is this illness

of the mellow blues and dead honey bees

Bring the dead back to light with water and ****,

let her light her cigarette,

she's had a very, very, long death.

We said our final
Goodbye to you today
It was so hard just to walk away
We will
Never forget you and your smile
Even though we're not together, it's only for a little while.

Glass shattered by water on water from the skies,
Clouds interfere with the stars that are trying to shine.

Closer to the edge we’re drawn, where shallows drop off fast,
The stories of magnificents that fall beyond the past.

Farther from the waters there lives an old oak tree,
When wished upon by fathers will bring them what they need,

To any heart that has no greed, accepted by the tree,
So the myths will live on longer as they are unbelived.

So drawn unto the waves again, the depth of death remains,
The mystery that lies beyond, impure and carries pain,

Of travelers and sufferers and those who take their lives
The people that will laugh and scream, and call this all delight.

So walk on past the suds and ****, see through the clouds at night,
There’s nothing that is stopping you, this isn’t urban Dwight,

Do stop to drink his wine again another day to lose,
If you step into the waters not watching how they move.

I looked and saw an angel.
Death was but a presence.
Her life was of an essence.
She would have killed my soul.
My heart for hers grew old.

Distance was an option.
Our love created a carcass.
I don't regret the process.
I don't forget forgotten.

She was my apostle.
I listened to the prophets.
Our hope was always guided.
She spoke through me in silence,
but I could hear the screams.

She begged for peace & quiet.
She begged for suicide.
I had to give her life,
because hers included mine.

I was running...
Running out of time.

This is who I loved.

i feel warm and you'd think that'd be comforting,
but the heat makes me sweat and my stomach twists.
the tips of flames strike the edge of the paper,
as i hold it over the flame of a candle.
they darken and curl, retreating from the fire in pain.
ink fades and disintegrates from view.
i watch as my biography burns to ash.
i can't bring myself to shed a single tear.