Tag: PROSE
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Second of May
In a city where I walk where I once knew the walls, I knew them by name On the corner we spoke of a lingering hope we’d be there some day I grew through soil, through the tremor and toil of my fathers name I was a man in the mild and a boy through the bile, […]
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Pt. 2
guilt pt. 2 Feverish and dry you escape from the others Those ridiculous sentiments we knew for a time You follow and plead We fall on fresh knees I thought we had seen it all oh man, i thought we had seen it all Buried for my transgression Made alive by confession oh God, i […]
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Artifacts of the Past
“I’m not sure” In an instant my father was a man, confused like the rest of us My mother was a woman, frail and insecure like the best of us I saw myself in my father A passion for living and a hatred for dinner parties; I never know what to do with my hands […]
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An Unholy Machine
Leaves fall dead onto the cotton cushion, leaves from Spring rain once proud now choked by a scorching sun. As another leaf falls I observe the passing of time. Humanity made repulsive as the orchestra of death and life plays on. Where we once sat to commune she will continue. I am a cancer amidst a beautiful land […]
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American
Coal pressed under hard granite over years becomes the stone that reassures her that she is loved. A proton of light travels across the universe for twenty-nine years narrowly avoiding rocks and planets until it reaches my eye on a night when I was feeling lonely. On a hike I stop to pick up a […]
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Sindio Forgotten
You never made sense to me, honeybee. I never knew you. I met you once and I saw you die. I greeted your death with absolute pleasure. You left your dying words in my skin. Although I lived for such a time in your short life you made me a novice. You left your sting and […]
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On the Nature of Daylight
While it is still cold she washes her face, slapping small drops of water on the floor. Stains from yesterday bristle a crooked mirror, the one she has lived with and sat in the company of. In the darkness she dawns a shirt while listening to the dance of the crooked mirror. It whispers as […]
TUMULTUARY 