UNDERWATER

on the bottom, looking up into gauzy folds of water, feeling pressure on my chest, securing me within this green blue garden where light is absorbed above into waves passing overhead, unobstructed, as I observe the other side of looking down

BREATHE

breathe, breathe, inhale the aroma the bitter barbed the gentle without wings   breathe, breathe, the silence required the answers searched in empty pockets   breathe, breathe, the anger consumed the choice not taken the basket half full   breathe, breathe the choices once made the crossroads disturbed resting in dreams   breathe, breathe out … More BREATHE

VAPORS AND MISTS

the meadow absorbs a light morning rain breathing it out by late afternoon as I walk through with my arms extended vortices from rising vapors twist off the ends of my hands forming contrails drifting silently to the ground without any evidence as I reach the other side

ANOTHER BRICK

unkempt hours lacking value steal the breath out of day   anxious wishing tries to move time, though fails against the push   within the clutter of desks and chairs heads lean like gravestones while the eyes of one look like the eyes of another      

MY BEDROOM

Next door mumbled thoughts leak through cracked plaster into my stale air   fevered dark shades of anger rise like storms born of heat then coldly pass   blinking neon breathing lights flash to the wall soundless and dead   hidden pipes suffer with song like tenors coaxing tears out of the weak

NEXT STREET OVER

The memory place. A filling in of the in-between with disarmingly haunting voices wrapped in frail burlap.  A cooperative sadness strives to overtake.  Faces like mannequins appear with irregularity, easing the initial pains of those left behind; everyone’s looking for a familiar song. Red brick walls with a faded ad stares from the second floor; … More NEXT STREET OVER

UNDERWATER

I am a prisoner of dreams. My thoughts, stripped from time, drift me into shadowed corners. The gray and white melt from day, opening at night where eyes are teased by desert spirits.  The rocks of memories are filled with ancient colors. Rivers pull at me, oceans lick my ankles.  My voice is underwater, agonizing … More UNDERWATER