There was once a sky
bound to leaves, violets
swimming across the hill,
lights gathering dimension
for your eye. I’ve done away
with myself and the sky.
It now drifts by our door
grayed into dust or something
similar. The leaves
paved-over with black,
and the hill is distant
in the shadow.
Will you wait for me
to see the face
of tomorrow, gather
up its eyes and watch
as I twist them to ash?

The Return

Light blue minutes
muttering through the leaves
even as you caress
their soft veins.
Moving now, a sun
writhing at your foot,
warming the faceless
lake once cut
by your brother’s jet ski.
Trees surround.
A distant blaring
folding back to voice-
less air. It holds you,
this moment
crawling out of rock,
a greyness without
shape curling at your toe.
You snap away, nearly
slipping into the audience
of stones, but retain yourself
even as no one looks.
Silence spreads into
sky. A being recedes
into water. And you think
about finally leaving
this shore as if seeing
a familiar hand.


Death is in the air
Again, spinning beneath
Sun, eyeing imagined
Movements between
Stones. Perhaps it was just
Its own shadow dancing
As another’s soul,
But death doesn’t need
More mockery. It curves
Over a mountain
And searches the valley.

Floats on by, sees
The buildings reshaping
Into earth, some small leaves
Clinging to trees before
Brittling into sun. And a couple
Of skulls teething on dust.
Death recalls the moving
Eyes and frightened flesh
Which housed
Those bones…
They were small lives
Anyway, smaller than
The silence that now warms
Their skulls. Death glides
Away from this valley
Knowing elsewhere holds
Hidden breath waiting
To be dream.

A New Face

Skipping beneath the blues
To a garden she only knew

Stops. There it is, above
The hover of pinks, a new
Face drifting among roses.

Her eyes linger. Will he be
A friend to the garden?
To her? Voices chatter
Among the leaves.

Her smile silences them.
The garden watches.
She moves slowly
To the face pinned
To smoke. Whispers.

She had dreamed
Of a new blossoming.
She leaves her friends
As darkness rattles
The trees. And they feel
As the latest face seeps
Beneath the fingers
Of rose petals and leaves.

Written for The Sunday Muse #114.

Above the Brave

Nothing was ever given to shadows
Tucked into caves,
Their darkened eyes sloped
Across hidden graves
Shaped beneath the jagged waves.

You might say this is no way
To behave, too frightened to meet
The glaives raised in distant fields,
Too empty to be dissidents
Or knaves.

Sullen, dark shapes
Unable to brave the eyes
Better faces once gave,
Now those faces are saved
By the glory of waves,
And the shadows, cradled
And able.

Written for Saturday Mix at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.


Sun spilling out
a new air, swimming
‘round the base
of buildings, crowding
the faces of glass

Streets heavy
with a wandering
breath, pressing against
the windows, tugging
at the leaves, the echoes
of steps filling

The young air,
slow now, reshapes
into light housed
in a cold puddle
beneath other lights,
beneath the glare
of a moon held to a place

Small Reaction

We live in a dimensionless age
where creation can spread itself
across the eye, oranges can impose,
particulates can sway, a dream
upheld in an unseen splotch.
But no mind comes of it.
Something stands there, fixed
to itself, as hues battle and chew
themselves, holes blossom,
spewing some violet innards
until darkness shapes.
A small circle, growing, reaching
with its impetuous hand,
fingering for a new glow
but the darkness whimpers
and closes out this dimension,
receiving and receding.

Written in response to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #141. Basically the challenge was to watch this cool video and then write whatever came to mind afterwards.


here’s the poem,
tried to write it
but it came
out odd
I muttered to the air
let the ceiling’s silence
press me back to sleep,
maybe something will
come into the window,
spot what I had
written, and snatch
that lonely little sheet
for you, or maybe
it will disappear
down behind
the cabinets,
or be read
slip beneath
your eye
and whisper