CONFESSIONS

I am inclined to despair, sobbing in the lap of my maker

A repentant posture bloodied knees rubbed raw

Pleading, as if you might clasp my tiny hands with rusted razors in palm.

I am inclined to despair, flailing before beasts of my own creation.

Catatonic in the path of 7 impending plagues

Plucking fruitless flowers from the scorched grounds of contemplation I walk up...

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FALLING FORWARD

I stood in the fire today waiting for  rain.

To soothe my blistered and mutilated skin.

My love, my bitterness-

The excrement sitting at the floor of my conscience.

The healing of internal lacerations.

That must be seen to be believed.

I stood at the ocean’s edge under a  moonlit sky.

Sweet liberation, glorious reprieve.

I stood in the ruin...

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FOOTPRINTS

I walked in search of myself, upon scorched grounds on fragmented nights.

I flirted with distance. I chased away the light.

I peaked into a void where meaning had been swallowed.

I fell in love with desperation and slept in dank hollows.

I walked toward the distance, at the night’s behest.

A painful morning light revealed the wolf undressed.

Sadly. I walked awa...

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CANVASSING

You could paint a picture of the miracle of courage.

The courage of the long-suffering, the wisdom of the unknown.

A picture of human triumph over pain, dignity’s conquest of shame.

I would watch you paint a miracle.

As sure as daylight folds into the void of darkness,

I am watching you painting tragedies.

Firestorms swirling across unsuspecting landscapes.

...

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