Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Pink Roses II

As I cool off
in the twilight

for this gridlock
to open up

like the skies

that one night
last November,

like the spider

trapped in his own
black self-made

and cannot find
his way back
to his prey,

my canines
are aching
for blood;

I’m snarling


here without you –

and you’re the only
I need.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

When Midnight Drugs Turn Sour

Accept that she
is a syringe

and that you
have a very
serious addiction.

Embers dancing
all around us –

the firestorm
will keep us warm

and we need this now;

no sun
in this cracked
marble sky.

An inevitable cold wind
rising to meet my fingertips
before they whisper
to you;

be it Death
or shadow

I could not tell.

You’re wearing off
and the needle
of your arms is distant

but optical illusions
on the far end of August

and we’ll make
the most of it

until then.