365 days a year.
52 weeks.
Every day mouth opened.
Yawning wide
Letters fly in.
Hand hewn,
Seed of the soul
Love letters
I embowel.
Buried deep
Poetry
Mommy
Cartoons on the TV for hours.
Barbies after that.
Mommy, braid my hair.
Lessons not yet learned,
Too much eye-shadow.
Mommy, I can braid my own hair.
Forty hour work weeks,
Dishes, laundry, and bills.
Mommy, braid my hair?
Years gone.
Goodbye.
Mommy, I will braid your hair.
I’m Breaking Up With You Because…
I hate
myself
when I’m
around you
more than
I love
us.
Choke
I train my dreams on a retractable leash
Running free yard after yard.
Until one inch too far they choke,
gasping on the thin air of absolute reality
Mercy for the Reaper
I met him on the corner of Second and Main
One afternoon, walking home from nowhere.
He stood so still, I tried not to stare.
Benjamin Knight, military sniper, code-name Reaper.
In his voice I heard dark rooms filled with secret deserts
And the sound of bones breaking from
The mercenary desolation of subsisting.
But in his eyes I saw the shadows, darker than any nightmare,
Splinter around the dreams he keeps locked away.
642 Poems and More 