Sin City (Haiku)

mo(u)rning has broken
yesterday’s endeavor lies
tangled in the sheets

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Sta(lwa)rt

every day I jump
off the top of my head
in more than one way;
joggle the pebbles
of my stoic mind
to make room out of thin air
& breathe antiquities
towards the vacant sky —
to finally be
long gone.

No Strings Attached

it is fairly easy
to lose an old shoe
while you force yourself
to run on unfamiliar tracks

& if the pace you chose
leaves you limping,
you are left with
longing for your old, abandoned shoe
and a wet, muddy sock.

Into The Gray

she shivers in the rain —
watches fragments of a promise
turn to asphalt tears
& swirl away to mingle with secrets
far beyond her grasp

she shivers in the rain —
while stoic words of an outcast
drip from her lips &
her tongue savors the sharp edges
of those foreign sounds
that taste like braille

time trips over itself
as she traces
the seams of quilted past
soon to be ripped once more
& all the while
she shivers in the rain.

Su(rpris)e Me

when I found you, squirming,
in the mesh of forlorn yearnings,
I taped my resolve
to the tattered lid of an aged cardboard box

& I wait
to be moved to our story’s attic –
alongside your heart.

From Ashes

do not bow to the voice of a broken heart
when you sway on the branches of willow’s siren song,
but follow the call of hope beyond today
and be a Phoenix, once more.

Deliverance

on the edge of tomorrow
my breath burst into silvery stars &
swelled
to touch the moon’s reflection
in a single tear
that sprang from wonder.

in this muted affection
you can still perceive
a slight trace of home,
calling endlessly.

Solstice

I saw your words’ first dawn
on a crisp day of pending woes
& in your eyes, reflected,
the sky’s limit ~
piercing blue.

in these overbearing times
my gaze stays fixed on the horizon
and I gush forth ~
to whatever end.

Paper Cuts

your story lingers
not in those letters ~
your feeble voice
never ruffled fragile pages,
nor did your truth
ever drip from fear-tainted quill

your story lingers
not on the cover ~
you never made it through
the cracks that hold a symphony
of old & worn

your story lingers
in paper cuts, resonant
on eager fingers, now stilled ~
then
I still had reason
to decipher you.