Florid Moons

fervid doth my heart display
upon the slightest thought of thee
dormant dreams arise anew
when florid moons sing incantations

sordid affectations
of this wastrel’s world disperse to naught
beneath the sheath of shadows
and the solitary quell

knowing all too well
this quietude will fall
by brandished sol
its call belies our silent reverie

ere the dawn bestows its blessing
lonely vows bleed vesper’s veil
plots of untold errant solace
lost amid the hour’s assailing

muted miles of sloe and slumber
hapless, by the sky’s refute
once consumed of aural umbrage
eyes beguiled wept rapturous woe

life in dulled gray street’s meander
sights and sounds of pandered plight
such effusive flights of fluster
never would we find profound

ours is of the hourglass sifted
leave the heedless hordes to wrest
we remain unscathed by fires
hailing from the hell-bound rust

[image credit: James R. Eads]

Hollow

this pithy endeavor

shadows of dust
masquerading through time

i looked away
laughing

returning
to barrenness

the warmth
of her touch

once
insisted eternity

how quickly
it vanished

seen
through open eyes

this sand
shifts beneath us

swallowing memories

until we are hollow

devoid
of our sentiments

i still walk beside her

footsteps
in spectral snow

when all
turned to nothing

and she was no longer

and i

left behind

[image credit: Odilon Redon]

Furtive Moons

there are only so many metaphors
that serve to justify this pain
so many words
chewed up
and spit back out
onto surfaces
whose purpose
carries all burdens

these feelings are like water
journeying alone
in a fearless freefall
crashing into the earth below
to join the fates
that all have known

still, each fragment
leaves its mark
for others to embark upon
in the hour
of our exodus to exile

the skies belong to one
as one to all
as life itself
bleeds into the eyes
at the horizon

we take our tragic pittance
wrought from anguish
each within the alchemy intrinsic
to their own

to spin the loom
and weave majestic tapestries
of triumph
to share the secrets
intimately held
by furtive moons

Not Even Death

when everything
is gone
nothing matters

the only place
you still exist
is barely even tangible

but you don’t care
no one cares

not even death

and so it persists