Shadows do not discriminate
They stay and change
Sometimes they go away
Hide in the darkest nights
And live in the brightest days

If I took your shadow
I could not tell
If you were black or white
Had scars
Tattoos
Or hair that was blue
Our form is more or less the same

If I saw your shadow again
I wonder
Could I tell you apart?

I just met a girl, she
is 19 years old, her
name is Covid, she
blew me -------------
(sorry I coughed)
a kiss.

There was a man with Corona,
And he walked through Barcelona.
When he coughed and sneezed
people stared displeased
At that pitiful man with Corona.

Moon of Venus
Moon of Osiris
I’ve been thinking
Of Corona Virus

Get Some
Chocolate
Get Some
Coca cola

Play some
My Sharona
It may be
Over Soon
And You Know
I love you
To the moon and back.

Lost in my own thoughts.
Tangled, twisted, sticky, sweet.
My endless retreat.

Where am I
if not stuck staring into a restless candle
that reflects my own inadequacies
yet brightens up my life
with every pulse of the unstable
and flickering light?

And as the fire rises up,
licks and caresses my face,
my body, my heart,
where do I turn?
There is never a painless walk through flame.

I have experienced this loss,
this guilt, this anguish before;
knowing it would be over soon enough.
I miserably wilt
like a vibrant blur
that is little more than a flash
in a pan of sorts.

The end may be coming,
but it burns like hell first.

Identity resolved, blue ribbons taut-
I am speech, a verb, a praise, a participial phrase-
There are many battles yet to be fought,
but with respite and awareness of everything throughout,
and to know one's self is to know the world-
Action vernacular, I use words like disappear to identify-
Find one's self in all mundane, rain and flame and claimless blame,
I am the Earth-
Words like crush and blight,
For philistines and charlatans, I preach intrepidly-
A zeal-
Belief is as an ageless hearth,
smelting swords for smiting fear,
for pain and trepidation to disappear.
Reborn red-horned, and one dozen eyes can see
I'm a word, a noun, a ****, a key, and All alive is a mirror,
It is dangerous to utter truths when lies are all the rage,
But I reflect the truth-
Every creature, refined or uncouth,
is a form of life, a light of myself.
To forget is just as whimsical as a simple turn of phrase,
all I can advise,
is to simply turn the page-
Normalcy and tact are artificial-
At base, one's merit is no longer superficial,
but to assert this fact-
This is the greatest battle of all.

My brow furrowed as she read my palm
and whispered of growing interest.
"What?" I asked; I had my qualms
about the foretelling of a future
I haven't decided to live.
But I smell the darkness in the incense.

I trace the tendrils of the incense
with forehead firmly within my palm.
The streets below are live
with persons of little interest,
hustling toward a fuller future.
Renew me, my qualms.

Not that I had qualms,
banana-flavored incense
replacing patois in my future.
The lurid waves slide over my palm.
instill a touch of colder interest.
With each sandy step, I live.

And as the water fills my shoes, I live.
When I quietly lose interest
the ocean shows it too has qualms.
The brine coalesces like incense
as my nails dig into the skin of my palm.
For I seek a better future

than the unforgiving future
that chose not to live.
The salt stings the holes in my palm
and instantly I have no qualms,
just a lingering fleck of incense
arousing mild interest.

The ocean betrayed not the slightest interest
being the shepherd of my future.
Rivulets of water became the incense
That I would breathe to live.
Instinct expressed fervent qualms,
as I pressed my mouth with my open palm.

It was the incense in which I held the most interest.
Her finger traced my palm, mumbling of a better future
ahead for me to live, free from petty qualms.