Wandering in a vacant lot
With all the turmoil of the world
Forever discomforting my mind,
I choose among the broken stones
One to kick and call my own.

I measure my steps to be in stride
To boot with the tip of my shoe -
I become a mischievous child
Who is saved from whiny boredom
To play with a new-found freedom.

How many times I punt it further
Bouncing about the cracked pavements
To where it will eventually land
Somewhere in a ditch or a furrow
And be abandoned for all tomorrow.

Amnesia is this pocket serum sacrament 
blown in darts by dawn from the waking saints 

now this sunrise split as perforate tissue,
this elision spilling as on a burnt canvas. I’ve
had my nonconsensual experiences

A creeping Gilman yellow, slow as subatomic
parcels, chutes lateral in jeweled stars

to dust the tongues of snowblowers
in the stagnant oasis of your Fargo home.

Life goes on, yeah, until it doesn’t any longer

Antibodies spun in fool's gold hold to
sugar angels arches; her steady rocking

As soon as I think of you
you are there
in every sip of cold coffee
I feel your warm breath

My arms ache to hold you
soon you reach out
from flowers in my vase
whispering hello

I pick a rose stem
brushing it with my lips
it blooms with your aroma
one of its kind

I hear a knocking
from within my beating heart
surely yours saying
I'm here sweetheart

As the torch of breath chills
betwixt fervour and stillness,
we seeth as time grows stale
yet, for a dark angel abide

Beacons lit at creation quiver
it's last fervour draws ichor,
O, lord of beasts spiral near
thy mane delights to a hair

Gliding darkness doubtlessly
sheathing limbs in tenebrosity,
yet the veil of twilight is worn
as devils spital gleams an heir

Alas, tomorrow will wilt away
as dew on a blades of dawn,
sheltered in the arms of grace
sorrow lastly ceases to dwell