invitation

scraps left at my feet
taunting me to imagine
someone else’s feast

things we know

What can I tell you
that you don’t already know?
Leaves wither and drop
Frost is pretty
but cold to the touch
Cracks won’t seal
nor reveal much
but only deepen with age
Paint chips, papers rip
Noise grates
and light strips
Layers peel,
eyes plead for repeal
And memories always fade
Still the city glows
in the winter night
like a treasure within reach
But come day
sits heavy with its grey
indifference unbreached

unsettling

You stood
so steady and solemn
I wanted to push you
full on
Not to see you fall
but to feel your whole being–
from the shift in your eyes
to your wavering core
down to your very next step–
give way to something
you couldn’t control
or foresee
And that it could
for an instant
be because of me

rush hour revelations

Tonight you’ll be home
and my thoughts
won’t be my own
You’ll start to explain
to lessen my pain
making a mess
in which I’ll be to blame
You’ll balk at my anger
I’ll rage at your calm
like numbers and signs
can be just enough cause
for a call to surrender
trawling through cares
for that dream I recall
meaning more than all
the days since you dared me

It’s the sharp clicks ticking
smashed clocks crashing
into altars we make,
and the poses we take
to make your still life lie
like what you’ve made of mine
that mark the time
we don’t have
quickly wasting away

First snow

this first snow
tinged in blues
what should have been
bright green
shadows of intentions
snuffed in ultraviolet glows
mounds levelled soft
damper expressions
that peaked in yesterdays’
long slanted light
the improbable gathers
and clings in clumps
to our thoughts
turning sluggishly home
to await the next thaw

Originally posted on jotnrot

the size of it

Sure, we measure our worth
by the look in their eye
by the words they offer
the gestures they make

And more than all these,
by their absence

grounded for now

I’ve grown roots
but my leaves fell away
I’m standing here naked
with nothing to say
That’s how it goes
as we all grow old and grey

I turn towards the light
just to feel its heat
looking for hope
or a sign through the trees
but no one is there
and time always wins in the end

So I stand aside
or I try to hide
but I can’t hold back
the scream inside me
like tides and the sun
it rises and blares in refrain

I punch at air
and pretend not to care
that words weren’t enough
to make you bare
your hardened soul full
of thoughts too bold to share

Now I look to the buds
for signs of spring
but the birds have all gone
leaving only the wind
to sing in their stead
and whisk off the dread in the air

Perhaps one day
I’ll find something to say
to make you come out
and want to play
but until then
I’ll sit with my pen
hovering above this page

newborn prayer

soil is most fertile when
seeped in sacrifice
and tilled with guilt

and what has all this
to do with you
newest girl?
what do you care
that daddy’s lust was for another
if it made your mama ripe
while she lay in wait

what does it matter
if neither was ready nor willing
or that winter is long
you’ll radiate enough warmth
to get them through

who cares what goes on
under frozen ground
as long as the tendrils
with which they yoke each other
find that soil
that won’t wash away
when the spring rains come

Originally published on jotnrot, 01/12/2014

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