wrapped in the tatters of my body
in this measureless place

I search for release
among the disconsolate boles
thin as hope
hard and dark

wearing pallid shrouds
of frozen lace
proudly displayed
in their alfresco mausoleum

an inexhaustible study
in the extremes
of leaden purity

their moribund limbs
and ice sheathed fingers
reach into me
pulling me on

tears of other lives
in frosted glory
cold upon my wintered face

always renewed
and living on
in fractal eternity

I have seen the marble arch
and was not afraid.  The
comeliness of it's curved
surface paused me. Your
song whispered of birds

felting by, of fallen kings and
reasons.

I have time on my hands to
listen. Hallelujah.  For my
steadfastness in love has left
me

bereft.

I swore to all the kings in the
Bible. I offered my skinned
knees, for solace that I was heard.

Hallelujah

There are cracks in my head,
my ankles are shackled.  No
music but a laugh echoed
side to side.  

I will go down to the river to
find God.  Your repertoire
is complete.

Why a monk Leonard? The
music of the ages was written
without your melody and
I sank beneath the river
like a stone.

But you're not there.  Your
music sustains me.  I walk
out, wet and cold.  

Hallelujah.

I am redeemed from the
nightmare.  I step on your
music as a soft petal.

I am for a moment, relished
and shriven.  

Hallelujah


Caroline Shank

the metal casket.
a machine pyre.
the ceremonial sky imparting smoke
pushed upward with each and every
of deep gray plume where they screened
into the brilliant white channeling clouds.

"let me be your king
among slaves."
"all I will gift would have
been free from me.
every downtrod
I will take
in favor of every of your own
development I so wish to build."
But watch what you do of him,
for our sake,
he is not playing to win,
and we felt him leave too.

the season of forgiveness
is like the cold bite of snow
that now slides down your
stinging smiling face.

why the **** do you make it so hard
hard to love, hard to grasp
you have been my task that i could never complete
I’ll compete, me and who
I’ll take them all on for you
show me where you want my kisses
show me where you want to spend Christmas
i can do that for you
i want to do that for you
allow me to do that for you

the roads here are winding, the leaves are changing.

best not to bang the teapot down on serving, best
to tell the truth.

Performance anxiety
In the description
The job entails
Failing
The best self depiction
And multiple takes
Multitudinous breaks
From reality
Raising
The trust-falling stakes
For the part to be played
Can be made from organic
Emotions
Inspired
But sync
In Titanic
Romantic delusions
Dramatic displays
And cliff-hanging conclusions
Assuming the love
On a true story based
What its face value
Close up
Maintains when embraced
In its shadowy,
Naked,
Most vulnerable form
Just the same
As in costumes
And make-up
Adorned