2 0 2


This heart you hold, its garnet glow
to dust it fell, you wash it clean
a thread of tears, through it you sew
this heart, you hold its garnet glow
and tie it with a christmas bow,
thus love remains as evergreen.
This heart you hold, its garnet glow
to dust it fell, you wash it clean

5 0 5

Somewhere in Time

This post is not available to guests, please login or register to view this post.
0 0 0

A beautiful life


As all else begins to fade
and the tiny crevices of my face, deepen at last.
As my body begins to slow down
And my mind begins to alter,
into another state of consciousness

As my hands begin to stiffen
and and my back begins to warp;
my body will still yearn to touch you.
To be with you.
To kneel before you and cherish you;
as it did many times before.

I try to recall our beautiful life.
Every moment recaptured,
as I lay down here;
with only my thoughts left inside.

I will not lament,
for our love was strong
and grew ever much more with time.

There has been no greater joy,
than the constant state of your love.
It carries me now in these final moments,
as it did
and will forevermore.

As all else begins to fade
and my body stretches to its final place;
these are the thoughts that consume me,
that hold onto me, and are at last,
enough; with each labored breath.

I want to lay here for now
and I want to remember;
what it was to kneel before you,
love you,
and cherish you;
until it is my time.

2 0 2

Giving Up What I Don't Care to Lose


My body goes peristaltic
when you come snaking in,
            dream weaver.
Dubious charmer-
     out in my garden,
accrued from the
     hemming perennials.
   Blood drips from your slithering
sanguine tinted fangs
    Tasted flesh & knew
 rising in frame from your mirth
 I am rooted, newly quenched and
    waiting for my golden apple,

1 0 1

A Printed Work of Art


His hyacinth head made my sugar-coated stupor spin
Paired and grin with silver-eyed vapor evaporating thin
My sensitive daguerreotype that exposes long dark surfaced angles
Rubbing off thin and fragile with copper spoils and a truth that bangles
in the bottom of my weathered basin that filters out gold and sin.

Acknowledging the things you know to be true takes no time at all
Watching the curve of your arm against sauvignon-blanc fall
And the bartender coming back is in all a blur, focusing in on your words
I'm trying to believe there is something to feel at all while a man with
a brown mug in front of me sees my drink order grow tall.

We bloomed and dinned and moved very slow against the night
Falling in below red mercury stomps, trodden through rain with frozen train
horns in the distance. You spilled the words that one often marks in
solidification in existence. And I couldn't say it back,
two mirrored photographs, taken on the same day. I don't ever want
to stay this way, in your ideal city. What is happening here is a dark
cornered alleyway in a Cherry Hill stay.

Floating on like search lights on a black ocean our patience tested
the true thick coils of devotion. Glowing on and off, slow swirling motion.
I leaned back hard into your car of disaster, waiting for the blinking lights
to appear, to carry me back home from our crystal picnic.
A long lashed downfall of my eye marked the minute when you
button close- the cuff of your sleeve and shifted in your seat to get up and leave.

You are a million faded photographs, a beautiful quiet adventure going nowhere
A transfer of ink to a paper sheet, the lithograph of my theoretic soul
I am engraved, etched and stippled into the surface of your skin but my
doubts of love shall paralyze the work of art within.

1 0 1

The Sessions

Empty hands,
reflecting pupils,

Corneas shield entropy,
vanguarding absentia

lashes fend
cheekbones bend
losses rend

lovers tend
bruises mend
nightmares end

2 0 2

Patina, Old Soul


I'll meet you down there, where
the patina encrusts the gate once
entrusted to pathway of the Swamp
Valley honeysuckle.

The thicket is convalescent to
sticky haired white azalea that
claw their way out of the muck
like a throat that clears itself
of hidden secrets.

I lament the crippled toned
rectitude of clean knees &
soft hands that grope in the
bright lit corners of early
florescent mornings.

I liked it better when I knew
next to nothing. With gadget in
hand you find yourself down,
extraordinary in some bad way.
Felt it necessary
in your new morality- to be open
about every instance of your day.

My contemporaries and I, we
oxidize the bronze gates- antiquing
your new society

1 0 1

Mr. Lune-Eye Will Always Be Spilling


Mr. Lune-Eye will always be spilling;

Crescents- borne fresh across the moon's surface.

I love you like a soul lost out to sea

& though you are still alive but gone- I continue

to entrap myself in tide pools, setting off

for the surf. Make sense of four legged creatures-

they once had dreams for deeper sea beds.

4 0 4

Bended Stem Diaries, v


My love is plumelike, clumsy

a Sweet Goldenrod

I am teething on toothless

leaves - peering through sun

speckled transparent dots

of the July wind ebb & flow

Yellow-rated blossoms

spurred & massed in

showy clusters.


We are not feather-veined

We do not threaten with

ragged edges at the bottom

of chain linked fences

like a spiny-leaved



His veins run parallel

& I am nerved in tiny winglike

leaflets, tapering off

a long margin stalk

No, I am widespread in the dry

open soil of Michigan.

0 0 0

Washington Reagan National Airport, 8:50 AM, Monday



Gate 19 from Cincinnati

Disembarks a company of black roller bags

in close order formation

forward tilt, like a trail of almost falling dominoes

ignoring the enticements of Faber News and Dunkin Donuts


Their counterparts, handles extended

Stand like sentries, lances pointed skyward
wait to transport cargoes of clean underwear, socks, blue button downs

to Atlanta or Chicago

The elite of their rank to board first  


Either way

this is one more outpost

in a one more hemisphere

in a rolling parade

that transports the great global society to work.