Poems
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I would come back,seeking photographs,those that were smoldering.Your face enteredthis mind, stilling me,as I never gave myselfanother choice, still wanting to graspwhat should be forgotten. Unmoving. Unwillingto step aside, to let runfree, the footstepsfor some other dragging mile,since I cannot, for this lifelean into another pileof teeming memories. I cannot bring forthanything else, as I…
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I am astir. I am present,shadowed into you,the loveless who dried herselfbefore me, of all her tearsfrom earlier years. You have helped yourselfbreathe in, among winds,within the tracingof distant sands, as I have, in your gracegiven myself even space, while clouds are our quilts,the blue of the skybeing a memento to griefthat love can undo.…
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Beneath summer clouds,we wait for the rainto keep stains engravedin those we failed to save. Oil mixes in with waterwhen remorse marries intothe next life, harmonized withthese falling petals. A mute chimeblanketed with the fog –the state of our heartsbeing bogged,returning to the brinkwhere silence hasits own sound. A remembered crimeleaves us, upon the timewhen…
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Only whenI choose, to come in –always withinthe haze of a fearless night,you are tragic.You brought your burialinto town, leading the firefor your frail, vacant eyes. You want this. Holding outyour seconds like naked flesh,letting your words slipwith the crudeness of dust. I am the witness.I have lost, upon whatmight have beena singular, in the…
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Another thing tosee, coming toblatant history.Another comma writtenin the letter, near the letterswhere the pile is justa mound of sandwhere time would float,above the grains,among the pain. White-out, the refrain,the telltale existenceof a never-ending reunionbetween a sun and a moon.When light has curtains,a blindness occurs, horror begins,frailty stirs. Outstretched palms,open eyes. What are we,in this…
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Two tales,one defeatat the silenceof one careless heartbeat.Twistedness, and draininginto discoloration. Our feversoared for temperatures,uneven. We letour shade get faltered,becoming halfwaywith light and dark. Two eyes, sightless,needing their contactsof other angels,of those who arebranding footsteps –the ones wekept hearingto keep callingour namesake,our sanctity. Being footsteps, of thehundred miles when wewere wandering, living foranother decorated instance.Becoming…
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I am here,lost without, by living withoutthe familiar burn.Coldness isolates me,wandering into these yearswithout. With the feelingI keep remembering,I am wrapped in curtains,wielding stonesupon my naked throat. What do I revive?Where do I survive,when this heart cannot be excusedfor being alive? No one hears meshout, when I amexisting without, being held in a shell,like a…
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At the momentwhen we lifted, I felt,I knelt in what we spilt,after our eyes were filledin the remainsof melted snow. Just a touchto burn awaywhat would haveturned into decay.Now, just an inch awayI can hold ontoa heartbeatI will not let go astray. Running into each other’sclosing arms. Hearingour breaths from a mouththat will speak, forever,of…
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You followed me,to understand howa light ever comes intoliquid existence, one that leakedthrough a ceilingof illuminated black. You shifted,become motionamong winds, stingingyour eyes with tears,but you werejoyous to seea different shape, letting yourself makebelief out of disbelief. You lost your groundingfor a minute, to kneel, while darkness lost its spotin the moment, whenhearts were sealed.…
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What timedid we see numbers,failing us?It was that infinitehorde of gleaming starswe aimed to count,but felt the sky coming downto create the floods at our feet. Through the deepof limited tunnels,we explored where wewere vast, holding ourselvestogether, while dustfalling from our shoulderskept rewinding us. Kisses blocked the sun,darkened our scenes,for moments when wefound it necessaryto…
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Held close, consigned,informed of what we might lose,ashamed of what we might closewhen our hearts are loosened,after knottedinto that flaming noose. Designed, to run freewhen we were told to seethe things we brought up,signing our nameon each other’s soul,and igniting lettersthat spokeof nothing ever wrote. We were bound to break,but knowing this,we were still caughtin…
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Identical stains on whatwe have contained, we have wornlike burn marks that revealtwin ordeals. We have been breakingthis bread, our flesh,listening to heartbeats in the morning,when the sun comes around –around the corner,to see us, the mutual mourners. There’s enough here, enough nearto be here – living in discomfort,as it’s enough to knowthe number of…
Modern Romanticism 