The mocking bird
and the robin
live in the snow.
Each bird
its
own tree
framed within
my window.
Together they fly
upon the vast
white world.
A rose petal
among ashes
leads the volunteer's
bird.
Poetry
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Diamond-Cut
See that stone.
He sees that stone.
It's coming down
HARD.
hard on you
leaving scars.
Against the glass, you press your face
frosted and forgetful of the hairs rooted
in shame. You kissed that stone-cold face.
Filled with stone-cold limestone
You scratch.
You scratch and lose.
You sin and lose.
You lose and sin by scratching it loose.
Scratch through his bones and
invade the marrows
searching for that familiar face.
Stone-cold blood glows. The skin glows orange
and the scars peel off bones.
He sees that stone.
It's coming down
HARD.
hard on you
leaving scars.
Against the glass, you press your face
frosted and forgetful of the hairs rooted
in shame. You kissed that stone-cold face.
Filled with stone-cold limestone
You scratch.
You scratch and lose.
You sin and lose.
You lose and sin by scratching it loose.
Scratch through his bones and
invade the marrows
searching for that familiar face.
smiling at you.Smiling and cold.
Stone-cold blood glows. The skin glows orange
and the scars peel off bones.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
"Today"
Losing a cranium
filled up and seeping out
of this scalp.
I'm bleeding in my
bed, on the sofa,
on the paper itself.
Brain tissue cries out,
outside of my mind.
It wanders into
blackness, cruel and unkind.
Where in this black abyss
can I find that light?
Flickering and warm
I have lost my sight.
My path unlit,
I wander through thickets,
deserts, storms and mist.
I fall into quicksand.
It swallows me alive.
But I climb out
and the son shines high.
filled up and seeping out
of this scalp.
I'm bleeding in my
bed, on the sofa,
on the paper itself.
Brain tissue cries out,
outside of my mind.
It wanders into
blackness, cruel and unkind.
Where in this black abyss
can I find that light?
Flickering and warm
I have lost my sight.
My path unlit,
I wander through thickets,
deserts, storms and mist.
I fall into quicksand.
It swallows me alive.
But I climb out
and the son shines high.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Rebuked: A sequel to Forbidden
Move fast,
hidden life,
double life,
hidden twice.
A quiet dog's life.
Secrets held twice.
Move, boy!
Hide, boy!
Fast, boy!
Hide,
you double life dog, boy.
Move fast.
hidden life,
double life,
hidden twice.
A quiet dog's life.
Secrets held twice.
Move, boy!
Hide, boy!
Fast, boy!
Hide,
you double life dog, boy.
Move fast.
Monday, November 1, 2010
This is what we do & It's Beautiful
We are this city.
We are romantic.
We are integrated.
We are cultures intertwined.
We are wild but religious.
We are the same but different.
We are French and Spanish.
We are musical and artistic.
We are food fanatics.
We are sinners and repenters.
We are overly passionate.
We are the beaten odds.
We are blessed in this state.
We are where we belong.
We are this city.
We have faith.
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