Does Not Return


Home is another way of saying

faucets drip

after being turned off,

coffee dregs are good for gardens

and the underside of pillows

live in constant state of autumn

with cool fallen down

away from warm drool

released when sleep

needed soliloquy

-hollow-                               for the walls.

The edges are smooth and joined

but slip in seasons moving

The house is Pygmalion to a hundred

hands

and does not return desire

to renter.

Cross


left to my own devices

i’d be yours

to let my luck

be favored

by your dreams

and lies

defined.

both in tactile

and remote ways

under another’s wish

would be first i’d ask

given a chance

from lamps, stars, wells

from djinn,

trickster,

or at roads

which brought us

to cross.

Claimed


what help might have come at the start of the song

was lost

as lullaby

carried on into alibi.

 

what sleep steals from life

will never be returned.

 

and there’s nothing a dream will leave alone –

nightmares are

made of

what eyes

overlook /

of what lids will hide /

of those crevices and rifts

where the past hides.

 

where confessions

lurk under stones

only to be overturned

as restraint drifts away

into exhaustion.

 

comfort has no claws which can’t be clipped.

there are no memories which won’t

sharpen beaks

on ribs

fighting for the heart.

 

what bumps rise on skin in waking time

are regret

trying to slip out, away

from the guilts

they claimed.

From Enter The After-Garde


Habits travel out from the heart

deep and stiff as canyon walls

Further forcing

another Golem

into being.

Furious sleep takes reign

over narcoleptic beast.

Still,

Sometimes even a twig

is enough to hide behind

And so

In turn,

secrets and ennui

creep back

hidden in harmony’s

quick refrain.