Playing cards, a time out of mind...
'Playing with embers', he said,
filled with sun,
in my mind I am already Hell-ward,
to hell.
My cheeks enflamed,
a burnt offering of shame.

As my own darkness engulfed me
I looked to the Archer of Light,
whose blunt bolts (belonging to the bow),
and shrouded, virile, animus intention
has already bore through mine own virtue.
And whose prospering scepter of ambition
I felt, once,
in a dream somewhere,
pressed, blistering against my form.

buried on a monday next to old man Jenkins
a hot summers day
stillness
course grass
the rough hands of strangers
the sound of wood hitting dirt

         the shuffle of tired feet

the soft patters of rain
the distant voice of the city


the unforgettable silence

The lights on inside the house-
The sound of laughter
Chatter
Stories;
Smells of joy
Firewood
Pine
Memories-

the eyes watching the doorway
            -SHUT-
   in awe of a life wished upon

one summer day

This world is like a cigarette-
The peak of it's existence
Burning bright to moon dead eyes,
Crumbling in after a swift breath.

Silver light spills to the rocks below,
Gleaming, glittering, glistening,
Beneath the still pond water.

~

Glossed scales revel in the silver,
Rising from the water in a leaping dance,
Shimmering, sparkling, shining,
Beneath the celestial light.

~

Only to drop back,
Beneath the rippling pond water.