i want to breathe your
pain in kiss it til it’s gone
i want to sell my
soul in exchange for
the burning to dissipate
and close the sores of
time that festering
have stolen away beauty
from your spirit’s light
pain haiku triptych
lamenting to Lee
hey it’s me
walking the street
mid day time
end of summer
meteopolitan smoggy air
how are you
maestro viejito hermoso
noticed he’d fallen
sweet weeping child
or is it
you haunting me
either way i
need to say
there’s thunder sobbing
up from throat
in the sudden
downs of life
he sits there
back to me
but back when
i sat there
too stoned to
hide my face
there is no
art in suffering
beauty estranged in
white soiled nothingness
grace crosses street
no one to
touch his shoulder
three six opened
three six opened
her eyes dewey cold across brow
another nightmare dissolving
the peace facilitated by round artificiality
three six rose
from the grip of lonely cold
the cat slept
nestled in the sheets quietly being
bloated eyes blinked
flushing stinging light out from them
three six returned
to the place of internal judgement
law of conscious
almost crying she looked around slowly
there is more
than the stark rawness of soul
somewhere is warmth
stomachs unknotted free from evil butterflies
my last one
he’s in a little cedar box
with an American flag tied to him
she sighs through the cat hair
and dust in the sunlight of the room
particles dance float and flip
she speaks in tender fondness
sweet pink cotton candy memories
for my ears to receive
now their father is gone too
the remains? they will cremate
him soon
she ponders for 37 seconds
should they share the cedar box
then she changes her mind
the radio music pounds in fog
from somewhere in her bathroom
i don’t think the children would
like that
for my second husband to share
a resting place with my last one
haiku for Norma and a footnote lament
stone sure smile again
fuzzy end of lollipop
empty glass comfort
Maestro im just another number at the DMV line of life im tired of crying im tired of laughing im tired of hurting im tired of wishing im tired of living im tired of dying surely truly this must be purgatory
:)
pain in her matrix is rose blush
cool as the skin of a pebble
her pain is cause for joy
smile beaming straight ahead
pain looks in the depth of their eyes
her lips part to say i love you
the clouds away frolic in ozone
pain not dulling with enhancement
then what
than what
so what
outnumbered
retort to Glamis from Porciuncula
generic chp. 10
thoughts of succumbing to the poison of slow kill the truth imparted at the exit of the womb how with what today can we be expected to delay decay when systems continue to thrive on the dander of ignorance it’s becoming unbearable tick tock
will take her
during the given 72 hours she will unscrew the wings from her back and hope the breeze will take her
on the Vin it is recalled those summer nights high on poppy brown smiles and warmth
when in the past oh how she misses discovering the awe in the hand of God when the orange peel was made to dry in the sun
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words less spoken 