Monthly Archives: April 2014


The first time we spoke,
a moment which seems
to replace my old plans
with but one dream.

With cloud at one end,
such fanciful things,
were wishes borne
by the cloud’s seeds.


Butcher’s Block

I hear the old voices,
of terribly fanciful frauds,
and find no reason to rejoice
when children speak of God.

We would bury their heads
deep in the dirt,
with our spiritual dead
and pray for their rebirth,

Praises for the dead
are curses for the living,
in the same breath said,
traditions become misgivings.

And it’s a long walk to the grave,
which we all go,
trying just to save
the only things we’ve really owned:
our two idle hands,
and our bones.


I step outside myself,
smiling in the rain,
into a group of children,
they’re smiling just the same,

We watch the sun’s bright shining rays,
my god it’s such a sight,
transforming cloud of purple gray
to tuft of golden white.

Still, the rain pours down in sheets
as laughter fills my chest
when, at last, my day’s complete,
I’ll be smiling when I rest.

Alive Again

Between two lips poised to meet lies only a soft moment of time. Each kiss a moment born solely to be slain by the next. Two collections of moments pressed together; tumbling, they breathe sweet affection into each other.

And dear god what a sight to see. Let it pour in. Let it melt the petrified mass that sets itself firm in our bosom with the passing of each empty day.

Nightmare (In A Dream)

It began this dream
in hall it seems
remains a sterile white,

and I walked along
the people gone
without a soul in sight,

but upon the wall
stood mirror tall
which shone for all to see,

inside a fright
no soul in sight
not even one for me.