Naught

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All I learned Today

Blood’s thicker than Truth

I unsettle You

If my thumb’s broken, it was not for Naught

Kids will find their Fun

Joy lives ‘longside Pain

Victims don’t live Here

Gentlepoet

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Boundaries

Drawing them in bold, black ink and silvery stardust

Screaming-streamed across the age-old sky

Can do nothing to take back my life

Can it

Filters

Weaving them with silken strands and begging hands

Humbly offered across the communal table

Will do nothing to bring back the gentleman

Will it

Need

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How would the rodents speak

What words would they say

“Yes, you, bring berries to your back yard

And all manner of citrus and apples alike

Fresh, full with fructose, on these barren of days

We planned well for the season

The Winter in May of the Spring

Evidence our good-faith actions

Our holes in diligence dug

Where we find once again, our daily bread

While our feathered Southern friends, oh!

How they need, need, need your hand

We’ll let them dine

We promise”

Reacquired

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How sometimes a Poem feels far too epic to manage anything more than a near-silent sigh of an utterance.

Often, you leave it at that, knowing another day, some other-worldly language, will surely present.

Persist, this poem will, and might seem, at times, like too much, or that you are not enough to tell It’s tale.

Everlasting is your love and your musings of It, this storybook Story, this Force to be reckoned, this Poet.

Trick

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I see the trajectory

By the time this is over

Your hands will scribble of your past in unrecognizable caricatures

Your ink will run dry

Only I’ll have the proof of you

And but for my forethought, but for my need

But for my suffering walk

It’s clear you’d have been a vapor