Time being
a pressure invoked
on a constant skin
involving bone and bone
a subtle grinding
into other matters.

Man being
another gravity displaced
by motion and the blood's pleasure;
each joint ******* raw
the thin marrow of another.
This life taking turn
with death or mirrors,
take your pick

Tonight i saw my father leaving in the cold.
His face a reeling night of red-eye,
unhurried, lonely, breathing ghosts.
Himself, a wheezing remnant left behind,
a token grace of winter on his way
to gather drunken, half-breed, fallen dreams.
Lost cheers. Lost salutations.
And wished for in his wake

Tonight i saw my father leaving
in the cold behind him
sons who silent promise
better dreams to leave by.