Category: Poetry & Prose
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wire
the tide that had shifta poem adrifticarus give us a sign a freediving psalmthat screams carry-onthe pressure that mounts underneath so, what of us then? if light is a gift and freedom’s withini am a man who contends and in truth i am wearyfrom these sudden uneasy demands it’s climbing like water and brinelike waves…
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mast
what wonderful things a garden can bringthe mast that would rise like a pine don’t reel yourself inbut harness the windyour strength is a thing to behold
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an antique desk that represents moving on
it’s not even cold in hereit’s bereavement to a widow fourth oversomething placid and refinedmy body aches like the wood in the antique desk she lent to mebefore he dieddoes she know it’s herebaking in the sunwhere the arguments of petty rivalries outlast the peace of pestilence
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what a beautiful refrain
so let’s take it all apartyou figured it was at the starti spent several years behind the wakeit was rough for just a namesake aaaaaaaaand OH!we’re past the snowmy chest is covered i don’t mean to pull alarmsit was richer then to play a partso i’ll tell you where the cadence endswatch a feather fallin’…
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the lent between ocean and shore
i’ve got enough for youi’ve got it silencedi’m by the water remember that lying ahead?you passed insteadonto the water i was scatterin’i was breaking apartand when the color came at once i ran into the heart there’s no belaborin’ into the water
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Kristof
i am not the person that other people seem to thinkand i have hated strangers just because they took it out on mei’m bitter and i’m selfish like a different kind of vanityi’ll sit with you for hours but it hurts and takes it out of meindifference is a sickness, it’s not worth it, but…
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receive me, brothers
receive me, brothers don’t turn away i am not like the others i can share your name it’s winter, manwhere’m i gonna run to?it’s winter, manwhere’m i gonna run to?where’m i gonna run to? can’t you see my name?can’t you see my name, man? receive me, brothers can’t you see my face receive me, brothers…
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i’ve got to be it’s got to be
i was living in the pasta place i knew i could climb the dash a long day was comfort tothe memories i still pursue so there’s nothing left to saybut here i am so for once i’ll pray my mind is numb so i’ll feel it outif this ends at all it will be in…
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