Golden Age

What do you call that Far East Asian ancient sailboat?

The one that’s always amber-orange and silhouetted, multiple masts

Sailing slowly but deliberately to anywhere but here

Help me because I can’t think

What, with all the noise in my head, contemplating your silence

Your confident cowardice

What do you call it

I want to hitch a ride to anywhere but here

Treasure?

No — what do you call it?

Shut-up, Stranger

Sixth-sense brushes with the Supernatural

Celebratory tinnitus signaling soon-to-arrive portals

And I feel aglow

For, what I’d failed to recognize
All those years
The Stranger and her offspring wished to silence me

Instead, I bravely shout from the rooftops each day
Renewed

What I used to fear, I ride out now, breathe easy and know

Answers are on their way

Justice is coming like a freight train

Nonplussed

Were I to sit down once again on that bronze-y parquet floor
Recalling bare-legged me
Relishing the coming summer sunset warming the scene

Floor-to-ceiling picture windows

My minion, watching monkey-business on the idiot box
Constant companions, we
T-shirt and shorts, the two of us
The uniform of the discarded

I would smile this time

I understood and understand still
Your ill-behavior, your abandonment
Warranted silence
I could say no more

I’d polish my toenails
That same multicolored glitter gloss
Plotting my goodbye

Knowing you won’t care

525600 Minutes Too Many

“Be done leaving,” I’ve begged Time

Stop the silence

525600 minutes, almost now

Only just this morning
Done biding for unspoken goodbyes
I threw the clock out the door

Glass heart that it has
It’ll not show it’s square-jawed face
’round my gold again

Black

Silence
Rings out year after forlorn year
From space, that sacred place
So I stay mourning

Yet, I send signals
Probes, seeking life
To every corner
This curious heart and mind must

Silence
I know it’s name, oh, but it’s heart
Darkened for what reason
‘Tis unknown to me

Invisible Crowds

Pendulum swung
Centuries of scores becoming evened

So terribly many words for disclosure’s sake
Too many words to hear

And, I, of all people
The victim of generations of silence
Of crowds who couldn’t speak

Now feeling deafened

Boy Upon The Hill

Nothing’s fitting

Not the double barrel shotgun you placed against my heart
Not your blindfold upon me anymore
Nor your murderous silence

I’ve outgrown your cowardice
The singe of alone you always left me is fading away

But the boy you killed, I’ll live with daily
Stolen from me, the memory gorgeous

The boy upon the hill calling me
Kissing me
After some schoolbell tolled

All these decades, still

miracle heart transplant

there is no Noah-gene abounding of me

no spin of the wheel offering another lifespan allowance equal to what you’ve long since spent

in silence, find truth

there is no infinite number of star-filled skies

no take-backs or do-overs, despite my shouts of forgiveness and this miracle heart transplant

in truth, find silence

Spilling Out

Imagine

Words building a ceiling
Slowly
Taking in hand an instrument
Carving in tender skin
Mantras
Misery you wouldn’t wish
Back upon the speaker
Tormented
Themself so clearly already
Spilling out is all they know

Survive