Dud

I imagine the universe echoes us all
At some point distant, or close
Rings back like a lover, or brother, or friend
Then, silence -when you need them most

It’s possible love transcends murderous words
In subsequent lifetimes, or past
A dynamite stick, burning from both the ends
Its light soon to fizzle, it’s heat a mere flash

Sky Eye

You would say, “I see you”
I’d say, “How absurd”
You would tell me to look close
InBetweenEachWord

I, with human heart and soul
Need enlightened news
You, with your electric eye
Have nothing to lose

Abstraction

I could’ve died, the graffiti from your mouth

Concrete memorials given under cover of night

The kind devoid of color

Sharp, dark, angry, and angular

Where, the morning after, the smart people come in, clean up, and move on as though it never happened

It should’ve never happened

Loved

could I walk backward
I would walk backward
would I erase you
I could erase you
close my eyes
close my eyes

where are the words
here are the words
here is my love
where is your love
close my heart
close my heart

Coy

One Spring sing-song day
I took a risk
I lit a match
I set them words on fire, yeah!
Crazy wasn’t my friend then
But I’m swimmin’ in it now, boy!
It was absolutely Spring
I’d remembered what she said

Oh Words

Each of us

Each

(asserted, channeling Dr. Angelou’s assertiveness)

Is defined not by the dictionary-eyes of casual glancers

Nor by the information-containing codewords from our fathers

Fallen or otherwise

No

Each of us

Each

Is defined by the footstep-shaped letters we leave for others

And by the blessed word riding, wafting, if you will, on our very next breath

Intended or otherwise

Oh

Of Your Time

Which is better of a tree? Which is better use of me?

To speak of its presence? Saying, “How strong its solemness, standing tall, withstanding all?” Asking you to close your eyes and opine on how it could be that such a tree only sometimes sways and creaks, whilst all creatures around it move about, busily in elsewhere mode?

Or shall I show this photograph…evidencing all my skill? See here my theft of light, my manipulation of mirrors? All the while holding my breath, knowing all I’d offer you was a lie to your eye, an insult to its blessed, innate sense of depth, of dimension?

Walk we instead, up to this friend and touch, even taste its barked bend? It won’t mind! Trace your finger to its roots-there’s solemnity! Follow, follow upward eyes, leaves dancing in the wind. Shading, singing as a friend?