Thoughts of You

hey
I been thinkin’ bout you.

moments still descend from oleander into onyx
persistent, linger thoughts of your rapport
I walked along the line in languor
like the thousand days before
in the canyon where the sky once spit out fiery metal

the faintest breeze aroused a rustling
as I neared the elm-thronged clearing
ghostly remnants haunting rubble
in the durance of unrest

striking me with urgent ponder

rain-soaked midnight kiss of winter
need to stay time’s sifting sands
fumbling through love’s confessing

though none were tantamount
to the exigence of your return
spurned without the solace of your gentle disposition

I stumbled looking downward
as I searched the desert floor
looking for a mote of Mother Nature
I could capture in a bezel
of her bounty’s afterthought

my mind began to wander
through the endless roads meandering
each one holding hollow hopes

your hand in mine
the empty skies
adust with burning amber
if we could, just for one moment
steal away beyond the sunset
where no worlds would lie between us
I could see my woes and worries
vanish into nothingness

alas, my otherworldly aster
seraphim of wistful winds
this distance belies reconcile
and I have yet to find an answer
leading to sufficient ends

[image credit: James R. Eads]

A Pseudo Farm

with lackadaisical regard
i watch as they dwindle
one by one
and sometimes two
or more

i never formed
a reason to rhyme
until time descended
upon me
like a pornographic impulse

brew me another cup
of disillusionment
while you’re at it

that last one
nearly fit the bill

sometimes
i wonder if i actually will
or would
or could

of course,
there is no question
as to whether or not
i should

though i am
but a coward
in uncomfortable skin

i’ve worn out
since the day
the world informed me

as i swallow
more
to boredom’s pallor

like a Fuller Brush Man
in a town inhabited
by ghosts

where nothing hearkens
but the silence
that consumes me

as a void that lay
between two mirrors
spared of my own completion

Hollow Home

the distant
droning

of undulate
whirring

persisting

shifting
into hours

the lonesome
shrill
of a room
filled with faces

whose failure
to listen

eclipses quietus

quashed

beneath the anguish
of this bedlam
mind

what darkness
familiar
yet follows

unfurling

the fears
of forgotten
infernos

unduly writhing

beneath twilight
reflections