Sonnet (A somewhat old one)

as i whisper

i will hold you still between my thumbs

slowly rolling you like a cigarette

with no beginning or end, no sad ears

pierced with crystallized gold (as i whisper

slipping slowly over cool frozen words).

i wish i could muster from these damaged bones

a small poem or a linear thought of light

to gift you as i swim in circles singing

(i will hold you still between my thumbs)

and i will send you time in a letter

and i will ask you if you’re yellow

as your eyes turn cold like two distant moons;

(and i whisper again folding small notes)

i will hold you still between my thumbs. 

Syllabic Poem in Meter

Photographs of a December Morning

a wind blows through the trees

then down the street whisprin’

words for winter turning white

in the eyes of a man

who stands like a painting

against his little house

a long brown coat rolling down

boney legs as they wilt.

a wind blows through the woods

catching a bright blue bird

as she flies with falling leaves

across the milky earth. 

Free Verse Poem

Tears

ssss

         weet

sad

i’s

walt

        zzz

like

       leave

ssss

fall

      i

       n

        g

thru

ssss

        mall

sad

u’s 

Free Verse Poem

Old Man

His head feels like a fog

     covered window breaking

in a cascade of white

across the sticky floor

     of the two room apartment

he calls his rasping breaths. 

Poem in Iambic Tetrameter

I plant my flower just to watch it grow

its leaves curling slowly in the rain

each petal smiling up sadly:

(pink and rosy for the blue eyed moon)

and slipping slowly through the mud

blood dripping down its white stigma

(to a spot where a touch burns red)

its lowest leaf curling in the sun

once penetrated as a seed;

his world shifting from light to dark,

stars flashing in the sky (still shy

with blurry ovule) its broken

thoughts curling slowly for the night. 

Free Verse

A Prayer for Happiness

If I could live like a stone

lying in the shallows, waves slipping

over me. If I could live

never looking back into the sunset

the light catching my hands

and illuminating them against the sand.

If I could live like a candle

burning slowly in an old ghostly room

reflecting only the shadows

of girls with blue eyes and white breasts.

If I had laid myself on a towel

to talk to a sad whisp of air that blew

like dust through my small cold fingers

catching the slowly cracking vase

I call my gently drowning memory.  

Free Verse

This Girl

this girl’s eyes glance like stones

across my small pale room

filled only with a bed

covered by sky blue sheets

and the perfume of a woman

whose fingers played silly games

through my long wet hair.

this girl’s hands are cold

mirrors reflecting the full moon

that settles like a cracked light bulb

on my fragile scarred arm

lines running from wrist to elbow

through a fifty pound childhood

that hangs around my neck in a pouch

as i hike from corner to corner.

this girl’s tongue tastes like oranges

left on the table to rot

the smell drifting to my bed

reminding me of wintery mornings

and sheets that i never washed.

this girl lies beside me and i look

up at the silhouette on the ceiling

slowly changing in shape

and washing against the shore

of a woman whose picture’s on my mind.