Frigid FlamesYou never see it coming. You recall watching for it, but notice its advent with surprise.Frigid Flames
A yellow leaf dances among your hair, Blows soft kisses in you ear, And looking up you realize the world has again changed, The trees have donned golden robes, And the crisp air is laced with spices that have been mulled to coarse ripeness. The blustery and cool winds of the season become the ingredient in the potion That sets the trees ablaze in warm oranges and yellows, in fiery reds.
The branches parade their frigid flames and peaked glory
Right before they surrender to winter’s silen
Whitewashing with TarStars in the sky are said to guide; Transcendent lighthouses in an ocean of the opaque. Yet tonight there is no direction to be found By their extinguished lamps that yet show an empty stage. Those who follow them are lost, And those who hang wishes find Their elevated dreams slip and shatter In a desecrated shrine. The sky falls down on instead of opening window-like up, Its luster faded to a dull granite of grey. While its canvas seems to reveal dust; A spilled cremation vase of stellar prey. The heavens celestial lights have been replaced By a neon earthly glow fWhitewashing with Tar
Between the CoversWhat happens between the covers clutches everything That defines and obscures that concept called life. The dusty book volumes that look so dull and withered on the shelf Fall open into leaves of possibility; There lies between their papery sheets a rough nakednessBetween the Covers
That holds both shameful flaws and boasting beauty. Nothing is hidden between them, Though they are hiding in being there. Upon those blank covers are the hints of their vaulted contents In the mere insinuating curves that emerge, The mysterious title that causes
The mind to race after the subtle shape given.
SundialSundialSundial
I have a second self that I am unable to lose. It hides surreptitiously just out of my reach, Laughing through its blank mouth At my attempts to distinguish it.
Within its dark corners it carries All that I am capable of, Yet am not. All that I could be, Yet are not. There lies in its flat abyss Both my worst, terrible and cruel potential, And also my greatest, most beautiful possibility.
And somewhere outside of it, Yet still attached,
I stand, Terrified and awestruck Of what I am leashed to, Of what everyone el
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