Preserved

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wrap tattered heart in stoic plastic,
smooth the barren earth which you call home
what once you deemed enthusiastic
now grieves beneath your hollow, shattered dome.

so shall the rains unleash your sorrow
wash burden far beyond your lover’s touch
place careful steps, seek fabled tomorrow
for in the end, the hurt won’t hurt so much.

_________________________________
(Yep, I cheated with the meter. Ha.)

2525

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filtered sunlight caresses
chalk hearts on mag(net)ic pavement
and i salute those rebel kids
for still knowing
how to play

there is a myth, clinging helplessly
to the bare branches of March
officially permitted
to drown in wifi waves -
stamped and notarized

life is in a hurry,
sporting business suits and clenched jaws
(get out of my way! no time, no TIME!!)
and i wonder
if there is a code in these fateful digits -
the true message:
2525.

Phantom Nights

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hold your breath ~
let phantoms fly from your disgusted soul
to tear jagged-stemmed blossoms
from ever-b(e)aring flesh.

hold your breath ~
and rage along the edge of sanity
’till nights dips into morning
and sandpaper screams subside
on tattered tongue.

then
breathe the sunrise.

Ghost Town

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will i find you
there ~
where sparrows swallow
milky, filtered twilight;
where curtains sway
in lonely brother’s mournful breath?

will i find you
kneeling ~
chipped nails scratching
dignity’s former grave
into dust-covered floor boards
yet again?

& we wander
between coffee cups and autumn homes
to whatever end.

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