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THAT TINY PAUSE

When in this world
grown short of grace
comes a remote beauty
be sure
to not hurry past
but, rather
stop
.....
if for but a moment
and give it thanks
lest it be wasted

in the morning he eats..........

in the morning he eats a tall papyrus
red lips stained to a befuddled Bacchus
wisp ministrations of the dawns wet
voice beneath a mortal skin none torpedo
orphaned oracle his thoughts ashram
who tributaries go for ceaseless
sapiens celluloid like ram-ash
a Caterpillar in transition probing
tasting treacle of a wine-press

Digit's Copycats (For Ian)

Another bloody night has descended
the city is riddled with senseless murders
the latest is the body of a homeless man
found in his house with missing fingers

A taunting note signed with 'Digit" in red ink,
found exactly at the crime scene.
What kind of wretched world are we living in
that the monster has mad fans imitating him?!

I did the postmortems on their victims
and the visions of their last moments
revealed them, begging and screaming
to their aggressors, their mortal demons

Static For Precious

fringe cacophony
fiendishly abuzz
a distant dirge
mingles into
merciless wind
dusted with
skin felt audio
tainted with grit
when amplified silence
becomes shelter

Michigan Avenue

I turned the corner
onto the street where
we used to live.
It didn't look anything
like what I remembered.
The house there to my left
is where I used to babysit
the Pastor's kids.
Back around the corner
down the block on the next corner
is where one of the kids
on my baseball team lived.
I was told his face was cut up
by a broken bottle in a street fight.
In the house next to theirs
is where the kid shot himself.
My teammate's little brother found him.

Insight...

And in the time of darkness
there moved in the Stygian night
A shadow born with awareness
far from human sight

It flowed with grace and silence
blocked from any view
Evil steeped in violence
'Twas meat in a simmering stew

It preyed upon his mind
drew life from darkened thought
Took whatever it could find
destroyed him as he fought

Life will touch your cheek
cup your chin in loving hand
Hide the scents that reek
Give you hope for promised lands

On Golden Sands

Together 
There is a hush as the sea
Gently flows back and forth
Onto the Golden sands we know
There caught in the light
 
Where true feelings glow
Two people stood holding
On to each other’s soul
Their smiling gaze
 
As the Angels shine
In the intimate knowledge
Of their being joined,
With a trust so true
 
Laughter sings out
As the babbling stream’s,
Catching the sun
Scattering it’s light
 
Words no longer used,
As looks portray,

Wanting the Queen of Brookline

The music playing
through the mirror
my mind a drift

Thinking about the
Queen of Brookline
the one I want

Her laugh always
warming to the soul
smile melting the heart
to a pure liquid

Wanting to love
something with her
that will last forever

Thinking about growing old
sitting in our rocking chairs
still having each other

sounds of trumpets

At this past midnight hour
I hear sounds from a distant too far
The music is soft and mellow
can't say if its melody

The trumpets are hollow
the singer is shallow
can’t say
if I can grant sympathy nor empathy

but still in the silence of the night
music reverberates into the loneliness
which one does berate
tis time to switch off and go to sleep
tomorrow I have another date
with destiny to keep

killing joy

Within the pearled
half-light of morn',
in the stilled silence
of the first breath

I watch opaque dreams
drift to and fro,
un-lighting the last star
unhitching illusions
the black silk sheet of night
is pulled back
and white silt skies of day
roll out

again,
in this never world
I entertain grand designs
serving them respect
with small glances,
filled with the denial
of an ounce of lunacy

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