Phantom Nights

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.

breathe the sunrise.


misty mo(u)rning shivers
in the crystal clear cold
& dives, frog-legged,
into the still green-stemmed ocean.

it is a marvel to see
strain strip
down to nothing but
a dewdrop necklace, suddenly smiling ~
and deep within the heart
the golden dragon


she had forgotten
her heart
on the windowsill
next to the crumpled
paper bag
that held a notebook
and his love.

as the light
turned red
she quickened her pace,
ran unperturbed fingers
through her faltering hair
and became
of the city’s
many faces.

… based on the poem Escapade

Coffee in November

dark treat;
hot and enticing ~
alertness extracted
from the mug
to float through our veins,
to banish
remnants of sleep.

although the mornings themselves
awaken gloomy and gray,
too tired to
spread light on our beings,
they aren’t half bad
with delicious warmth
as a reliable comforter
on darkening days.

Photo credits:

Early Morning

through the spirit
of a newborn day,
life feels different.

and for
just a few moments,
while the scent
of freshly brewed coffee
seduces your nose,
loose ends
are forgotten ~
and everything is

photo credits: