infinite is the same color gray
stones upturned not a smile they bring
the bulbs of spring red will be
blessed are her feet
they carry a soul to heaven’s gates
wings await to offer flight
descend your faith into our light
on the corners where the orphans fade
a glance will do from eyes of gold
our picket signs with prophecies
adorned
will see the blooming of a brave new world
air enmeshed on my face
gases greases spices biohazard turbulence
steps i do take deftly
for fear of stepping on someone’s pride or fingers
heart where do you find me
not close by tonight i’m sorry
lungs pained by the dull recycled wind
legs tired from walking on my knees
hands exhausted from typing and knocking on borrowed doors
that were sealed shut years ago
Langers you’ve outdone yourself
pastrami parfum greets me in the mouth
but pauper pockets must decline
not enough to eat on any night
moon follows explaining what went wrong
i’ve stopped listening 20 years back
the coat that was my father’s
has fell apart in the warm places
it served me well as now i’m frozen
in all the right places
only the ghosts living in the bricks
get through to where my thoughts
reveal
the truth about letting go
later in the day
the thoughts of futures fade
the street does that
sucks out hope regurgitating reality
the toil of memories unpleasant
pain survived over again
a boulder growing
demanding to be rolled up forever
i have seen the morning crash the back of the night running away from the future
i have witnessed shopping carts on fire devouring the food of my seeds
i have seen men lie to men as they’re life has lost it’s worth
i have witnessed a spirit come but in the opposite of peace pulling the sun and pushing the moon from me
a kiss i
send to bless
the heads of
angels high above
my fleeting life
the feet of
men are slowly
bound by ties
with no direction
i have no desire to stop and smell flowers or tell my friend about the aroma of bread in the morning breeze i have earned the right to just wander off in these unbelievable streets barefoot to squander the last of my life i have no interest in looking for the art in my face or the strength of my wrists i have a need to talk to myself about the world that scorns me and finally be at peace to embrace the underground in solitude
we great grand children
acorns plucked from branches
strewn across the roads
on a whim of damnation herself
still in the red we toil
rot away on bended knee
collecting rejection in reusable bags
we cry not for pain anymore
sedated we sit and lay down
to partake in the ruthlessness of abandonment
running from time outside
chased by ruin and stain
deep a vault secrets
tell of themselves
two lights we are
far apart unexplained
Horus sees his eyes
in our face looking
inward by the outward pull
the wax puddle
is cold my thoughts shut
down for the night
i sigh chest tight
radio silent stars
not in the sky
gray clouds instead
look up across ceiling
cobwebs caught in memory
fluttering in preparation
for dreams
Cover designed by Tara Caribou It is the official release day! I’m honored and grateful that my friend, Candice Louisa Daquin, “gently” nudged me to do this. Additionally, I am indebted to Candice for believing in me and for her diligent work in editing. Thank you, Candice. You are one of the most giving people […]
It is the official release day!
words less spoken 