Poems

A smattering of poems. A dabbling of words. A gaggle of thoughts.


typewriter

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I should have a typewriter, a paper
guide to show my words home
as they fall
effortlessly on the page, accompanying
the sound of keys playing accordion
under my fingers.

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Misery wears a crown

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misery wears a crown,
resting politely
on his head.
old men wave
as indifference
fluttered by.

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A thought

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Jesus Christ is this growing old?
And what if this is it? And
at the end, is there anything
but the end?

The past gets longer every day
and all the while I look
back and

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colors

I love you as
     the night
hangs gently from your

brow, playing towards
     a twinkle,
determined to

turn your lips (
     revealing the bliss
     meant for us)
gentle red.

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Unmistakable

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Sometimes I’d like to unpack
my soul and watch it pour
onto the ground, mixing with the dirt
and whatever lay before me, a new me
with constituent parts
that unmistakably resemble what was
but look tough,
simple.

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Awash in serendipity

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Nothing but serenity, or
perhaps the full force
of the sun softly rising
amid dew-covered grass
as I revel in reverie
where dreams unfold
in reverse – revealing a
beginning while the
real world waits.

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