Abandoned - Like all dreams I once had. The walls and the windows And the roof and the door Of a Gingerbread house I never built. Out of season In the spring. Overdue festivities- Decaying celebration; Bittering memories of the happiness We could have had. I chew on modest fantasies While reality stales slowly In the … Continue reading Gingerbread Basement
He burped as the bomb exploded Inside our TV set. A lifetime ago- But our hearts still beat faster for them. I moaned as the wounded groaned. As a pacifist I always saw the enemy as an imagined one; A friend That’s found himself on the other side of the battlefield. Like the man on […]
We reap before we sow, But they weep before they grow: Nine-month-old prodigies Know most about the world - They feed from wise wombs In nourished isolation. Meanwhile We – The foolish, the optimists, the human, Expect smoke to arise from A collection of well-meaning twigs. We distort the nature of things As though order … Continue reading The life we live now
Many men: Wounded soldiers That never went to war. Yet I still try to heal Their rumored traumas. Wrap bandages around Their unspoken scars. Soothe their desperate cries In silent nights. Sleeping soldiers With nothing to fight But themselves In a defenseless world. Put down your armor.
I was drunk: Dizzied by the fruits of freedom. Sunsets, sherry, and snuggs Were all I needed. Dancing in the streets; Daunted by my ugly flaws But embracing them anyway - All those little turds. Stumbling into bars, Swallowing spirits that Made a tear roll - Where I didn't want it to. Made self-doubt show … Continue reading Jerez
We were at your place Cleaning up a storm, Happily sneezing up the dust And sorting out the mess you made Before you ever met me. We read your history book of Oversized suits, a broken church, Handwoven scarfs scarcely laced With the perfume of another lover. It was a fun game: I, the archaeologist, … Continue reading I, the archaeologist
Young child, I tell you with the certainty of my heart That it is ok to be confused, Ok to be lost in a maze of your thoughts As long as your goal is, one day, To find your way out. Value these days of confused navigation, Because they are golden; Because true beauty can … Continue reading the medium of mystery