upon a shot that lit the roof alight, June 29, 1613

The cannon cracked—too loud for stagecraft's game, 
Its echo swallowed jest and breath alike; 
That spark, unmeant, leapt high to catch the flame, 
Where thatch stood dry as tinder, ripe to strike. 
The players froze mid-line, their throats gone tight, 
Eyes tilted up where straw betrayed its role. 
A murmur passed like weath...

Read and leave comments (1)

November Heart

My heart feels like November,

Not yet dead but getting colder.

For as long as I can remember

I’ve just been getting older.

Blood congeals in icy veins,

Unable to reach a conscious thought.

In the brain confusion reigns,

Nothing’s found if nothing’s sought.

Passion left a while ago,

Heart and head decided,

Where blood and thought no lon...

Read and leave comments (1)