Pasting the Past Into the Present

a poem is but
a restive cluster
onto pages
with our frantic
fears conspicuously
calling out
for rescue

meticulously poring through
decrepit thoughts
of hoarded visions
kiss to tryst
to triste
in a blissful
before sediment
comes nigh
where sighs undress
our destitute descries

calculated coalescence
pandering our pride’s
priviest imprints
curling chips of paint
exposing throes
of yesterdays

sacred cruxes
born before
our burgeoning bereavement
from whence all
embarking destined
for a distant hearken
poised to be
impartially presented
in pretentiously penned
to pierce our peers
to sate this
untold inquisition


O Muse Sublime

o muse of trembling ardor
perched upon what precipice
wax adoring or abhorring
beauteous capricious wisp
beckon thoughts to naught surrender
fleeting free fall fraught with flame
solace in reckless abandon
consequence of hazard aim
intervals hail flippant airs
qualms aloof and proof left scorned
paradox of quine requiem
to what behest dost now adorn