losing gracefully

There is longer silver stronger change

Trip dripping along 

The edge of your tongue 

It’s sweeter and greater and shinier 

Let it sneak out 

Slide out the corners of your mouth 

Words you never thought you’d be brave enough to say 

“It is over, He has won” 

self described overly pretentious tree

My height, a haven for haggard travelers, 

my arms a safeguard for their heads, 

Dripping rusty mustard tones from long and drooping fingers. 

My raiment arrayed at my feet; 

A glowing scarlet carpet

Touching my tingling brown toes 

As they wearily wander toward earthen warmth. 

My back is straight;

I am in love with sun and rain, 

All glory be to God. 

the art of being sad

I am attempting to
Manipulate my
Sadness like it is art,
All the meanwhile
Doing nothing to stop it
From taking over.

I wonder if
I wonder how far
I can take this
Or if I'm trapped in it
Which is far more pathetic
But perhaps
Much more like art.

wax heart

I continue sending letters

Written with blood

Sealed with a kiss

Each one more elaborate than the last

Each one sent more soberly

Each one with stronger intent.

Alas, my love is unreachable

Hidden high in a golden tower

Atop a golden stair 

Which I can not ascend. 

My love answers in whispers

Too small for my hearing. 

Each one a tiny soldier

His voice hacks through my doubt 

Only to be doubted on arrival 

Is it you, my love?

Is it you? 

Is it... me?

Sometimes I think 

I'm writing to myself. 

how to write in winter

Winter closes in
My poems freeze in my fingers
Anxiety thimbles form
In crystallized patterns
Oh so well worn
What do you expect me to do
Type them out with my
Frost bitten toes

defeated day

Light lies low 

Dripping darling droplets

Trickling through treetops

Showering short shadows 

Sunset serenity