thoughts sit in the hollow of
my consciousness... silent...
words paired cleverly together
elude my pen strokes and
the empty paper rests patiently
for charms of creativity,
a burst of energy...
my ideas drop as you reached out
to catch another fresh approach,
and my recollections remain
beside you... nothing new.
Tracing
we trace the mental images
of a lost companion,
privately and deeply
within our eyes,
we see faintly,
yet visible... a reminder
of a sadness, like sunburn
can be soothed and felt.
Iliad
drugstore gypsies precisely at
ten, return with their lost fortunes
and dream of Homer's Iliad,
discussing politics of the day,
their conversations with
casual observations... reckless,
but in a down-to-fashion,
they all just seem to disappear.
Within Living
we pretend... you and I,
to face our realities
save the solemn
taken years ago...
we offer solutions
without knowing the problems
living within its side effects;
we wound selfishly, the
honor of each other's pride,
until the bottle spins
and we are together...
we disobey the Ouija board,
a crap shoot... alley style,
but life does begin
and end on our city's streets.
Euphoria
a weakness for the unfamiliar passes
inside and the challenges become real
and wonder who holds the permit;
hidden beneath sensations, euphoria
falls... is caught and wrapped...
hidden safely away... preserved
in one of our kitchen cannisters,
resealed, a memory rests on my
shoulders while all the missing
weep alone in our silences.
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