The Ethic

A hush drapes over an endless dark world.
A black window's, as a hollow mirror,
A gaze back-caster. A lone light bulb's buzzing
Dirge. Gloam's end. The asleep lie closemouthed.
The rest keep watch as their eyes burn-lost
royals, hunched over, with frowns gracing crowns.
A love. Long quiet enchants whom sees now
Their kingdom resting beyond sleepless nights.

The Good Kind

See us rise unfettered, daring countless
Whims to try to halt our gait-we homeless,
Stillborn, orphaned. We-a word made fresher-
Dangerous exploiters, kindly folks, we're
Stranger thieves who swipe all sleeping treasures.
Nightly cover hides our shining eyes and
How we love the fright that jumps from shadows.
How we pass and hear more roundly laughter
Lying inside tragedy befalling.

Apology

I'm, sorry, not sorry and yes

I'd do it all over again-
Probably.

Who even was ever a friend 

Who didn't mess up or offend?

Maybe, me.

Molossus - Didact Rhyme

Beethoven:

“Es muss sein!”- fate, fate, fate.

What doomsday

Dares tell you, “Give up time?”

Sure, sure, sure-

Yours, yours, yours!

Just two cents costs my brine.

Scaffolding-

For no house!

Underground,

We stay fine.

Starsong

It's true, afar still hung in blackest space, 

That you, like them, too have some grace. You curl

Yourself around these empty worlds, and make

Distinct the umbral planes you break, for whom

To see by contrast-cheaply, loosely, too?

You hide your face behind a mask-its spots

Confuse the simple scheme. Locate your core.

You seek proximity, yet all around

There's such a deep infinity of stars.

Elevation

About a dozen hung idly,
Around that time, quite politely.
Dreams, you see.
Out-of-step, passing through.
Just not in.
Just. Kindly.

Posted with Blogsy

Island is Island

Hills of onyx and diamond
Washed in splattered flashes-
A bare line unbearably bold.
I embrace you sweating.
I speak us close and firm
Since you're good for me,
Regimented, like medicine.
And, silly, I'm good for you too.

Awk Awk

I fall
Into
The
Hole
That bores
Between your words
And mine,
And furl, then wilt, and
Grasping lose
The yarn
That stitches looping thoughts.

My friend, I'm not aloof.
Contrarily,
You loom a god before a frozen man.

Aridity

This morning Nature woke up on the ground.
She watched as we were dragged without a sound,
Across her body's oily red disgrace.

We streaked her hallway floor. Rain washed her face
That reeked of char and putrescence. The light
Confirmed the end at last of drawn out nights,
With demon imps that suckling, scarred her breasts.
She doffed her burning dress, then limped as best
She could over to shut her bedroom door.

It locked. She sighed, "Y a mort. Alors...confort."

Mulching

Silence grows like the wild flowers-
No one waters or prunes daily-
How they thrive all the same,
Heedless.

Rainy days and at least
Hours' sun sufficiently breeds
Many such, that spread
In our farm seedless-
Useless,
Even
To grind as flour.
Prickly stems should be pulled early-
Palms exposed to the cold
Bleed less.