Sewn

Reduced from color
To black and white
With an Autumn fondness
Temperate shades cleaned
Standing on a pedestal
Filled with thin metals
And exotic thread
Sewn into a portrait
Of beauty and sadness
 

He stands at the base

He stands at the base
Staring to the top
Walking into the sky
He sets his tools aside
To rest, to wait, to hide
As the winds push
His stone fortress aside

Great Velocity

What appeared to be a fish
Deep underwater
Moved toward the surface
With great velocity
Upon reaching the limits
The fish broke free
From the water's depths
Propelling itself into the air
Traveling in an upward arc
Unable to breathe
The poisonous air
And incapable of
Defying gravity forever

The Chasm

She dives into the chasm
Spreading her wings
Her flight is sharply downward
At the bottom lies
An unseen paradise
The deeper she falls
The more she wishes
She had never opened her wings
The darker the journey becomes
The more she remembers
The light above
And how much easier it is
To stare into darkness
Than to embrace it

Invitation

All went silent
When I asked them to talk
All were seated
When I asked them to walk
The room emptied
When I invited guests
I sat on one seat
In the large banquet hall
I looked around at the lavish
Decorations, furniture, and a feast
Prepared in honor
Of the moment I extended my hand
To drive them all away
With an invitation

I heard sirens

I heard sirens
But they weren't for me
They moved along the avenue
Very loudly
And when they stopped
I was surprised to see
The body on a stretcher
Bore the face of similarity

Everything seemed promising

Everything seemed promising
Until the day the promises turned
Into fragments and rubble
Shards of broken glass
Trash blowing down the valley
Until it was stopped by a row
Of fallen trees
Broken from being pulled
In two directions
As they were struck down the middle
By an unstoppable force
And the hopes and dreams
Of the town and its survivors
Were as scattered as the loose paper
Floating damp sheets
Settled near the remnants of a schoolyard

checkered tile

There is a checkered tile that shines from within
As the feet that travel and the knees that bend
Are embraced in a way no other can see
Time offering full immunity; diplomatic guilt
The remorse proceeds the walk
The receding dance along the flooring
Encases the enraptured and removes them
Enamored, as they may, from the boarding

Horizons part 3

An old sea turtle looked up at the night time sky
And watched the clouds dim the moonlight
She listened to the high tide and the breaking waves
The black horizon from where she came
Would soon fill with color once again
The illuminated marsh and reeds shimmering in the moonlight
Would soon come alive with birds and insects
And the black horizon above would soon be blue again
Just as it had countless times before
But this was her final nest, so she opened her eyes
A little wider than the old mother had opened them in the past
Attempting to absorb eternity into her shell
And take it with her back into the sea

Horizons part 2

A clear morning sky
Is unable to warn of
The storm clouds filling
An afternoon horizon
Nor does a mid-day sky
Speak of evening floods
Or what awaits in the morning
Only the night has a story to tell

Horizons

Her gaze was an ocean's edge
Viewed as a horizon from a beach
Resting on the hard sand
Near the rolling water line
Becoming softer with every step
In either direction
Whether sea or land
She turned her stare
Away from the limits of sight
To a high place of immediate release
She nested and viewed a new horizon
Of marsh islands and reeds
Protecting her unhatched treasure
She found a new source of comfort
When she faced the other side

Along the Fabric

Spreading warmth
To the upper layer
The lower surface
Bone and cold
Crushed, splintered
Melted dust
Along the fabric
Inside the fold
The source travels
To the fluid
An igniting spirit
Hardens the mold

A Light Went Out

A light went out
On the other side
A shadow
Traveled through

The absence of black
Left a residual light
Glowing near the puncture
Passing into

A pinhole in time
Seeping matter
Forming a gate beyond
Reality's residue

The Fool

One toe to grip
A slender limb
The other leg
Turned inside

A heightened view
Points through a few
Animals attempting to hide
Upright again

Through air it swims
Across the rim
To snare and shock
As it opens wide

Resting off the rock
Away from the flock
Pandering delays
The inevitable to another day

The Pit

Stranded in a deep pit
Without ropes or ladders
With no rocks or a ledge
The sheer walls seemed
Impossible to scale
A mass of people stood
At the bottom looking up
Most praised the brave people
Attempting to scale the walls
Others watched, pointed
Claimed they could do better
And when the climbers fell
Back into the mass
Some were chastized
For their puny efforts
Some were made heroes
For climbing higher than expected
Their comfort was knowing
That in the face
Of sheer futility
They had publicly failed
As they performed
An impossible task

Flayed Faces

A minister flayed himself
Before his congregation
With their unwavering approval
Removing the skin from his face
Exposing the bone, the meat, and nerves
To the pious
To the righteous
To the holy
He pulled the skin back
As if it were a hood
And then his associates
Cut around his throat
To remove the raw
Human leather from his bleeding head
Giving the bloody mask
To a young boy to wear
Obligating the child to flay his own face
And don the head
Of the old minister
Allowing the old minister
To once again preach
While wearing the face of youth

A Red Tide

A reflection in burgundy
Too close for keen sight
As wine and blood mingle
Into the black pool of night
A ripple of waves and glass tulips
A current pulling human fruit
Along the shores of reason
Suffocating the wandering mass
Who join this poisonous pursuit

The Throne Room

Seated above a sharpened metal disc
That sings as it whirls and spins
A beheaded corpse with the head of a donkey
Resting on his lap
Sits to the left on a throne
Made from human bones and flesh
His servants organise and gather
On his behalf
Praising the dismembered cadaver's
Dubious help
To the right, the bloated shell
Of a fat man sits on his own throne
Made from the dried guts
Of the same donors who provide
Materials for the  throne of the left
The large intestine of his rival
Is sewn over his nose
Giving him an elephant's appearance
The workers and donors stand single file
Marching toward the spinning object
Dividing themselves into halves
That fall to the left
And fall to the right
Their parts collected
By palace craftsmen
Who are tasked with building new thrones

A casket made from ice

As the cheeks crack
And fingers curl back
As the feet turn black
The chattering spasms attack
Helpless and cold
A swift demise
Should be preferred
To being buried alive
While standing upright
Inside a casket made from ice

The Dregs

It crawls on one elbow
And the opposite knee
Leaving a trail with a tail
Feeding from the floorboards
Drinking from a puddle
Of its own congealing drool
A scent of new surprises
Make his twitching muscles dance
He struggles through blindness
He prays for a second chance
The creature suddenly rises
Above the source of dregs
One foot across the center
Standing on one leg
Reaching up to heaven
Trying not to beg

Frost

A slender form passes between
Two worlds timeless and soft
Chilling air unfrozen
It drifts as a feather across
A chasm of delicate pleasures
Melodies gold and bronze
An island of unseen riches
Concealed by growing frost

The Crop

A lazy farmer reclined
In a barren, ugly field
Planting strange black seeds
In a secret garden
He waited for a crop to grow
By the dawn of summer
The plants shimmered
Like poisonous metal
Mercury, nickel, and lead
Quickly, they bore fruit
In the shape of human heads
On which he carved familiar faces
Of his wife, his children, his parents
Of his neighbors and his kin
By Autumn his farm became a forest
Of faces turned hollow
As insects burrowed within

Seattle

She sits alone painting
A magnificent portrait
Of her mind

Brushing strokes of raindrops
She assaults the umbrellas
Of countless passerbys

A scent of roasted coffee
Trails a trolly
Along miles of mirrored glass

City birds nest on statues
Of valiant heroes
Who pose to glorify the past

While beggers sleep in alleys
Beneath the plush high rise
Of an elitist upper class

Deep in the soil below

In unison
The green lovers rise
In uneven patterns
Hopelessly intertwined
Entangled on heaven's drapes
Cut off and pulled apart
In the middle
They continue to grow
From down to up
In parallells
From up to down
In rows
Through famine
Through drought
Through floods
Through ice and snow
Finally halted
By fires that scorch
Their buried hearts
Deep in the soil below

Gasper

Seated beside me
My accuser gasped for air
As he wrapped a cord
Around his throat
Pulling with all his strength
As he weakened
As his eyes began to bulge
And his swollen tongue
Pushed down to his chin
He pointed at me
Shouting "Murderer!"
Then he asked me to help
I wasn't sure
What kind of help
I should offer
Or whether I should
Help him at all

The King Dines Alone

A king with a magnificant smile
Seated himself at his dinner table
Filled with many empty seats

Without guests or servants present
No wine, or food, or exotic fruit
In a room filled with treasure

Priceless art, everything posh
The ornate furniture polished
As were the silverware and goblets

Desperately hungry
He removed his golden crown
And ruined his teeth

A crownless, toothless king
Sat at an empty dinner table
Hungry and unable to eat...

The Weave

I tugged a stitch at my ankle
And pulled until the string unwound
As the woven fabric loosened
I hesitated when I found

My leg lost its form

So I knit my shin back together
Hoping I had the skill
To avoid an odd distortion
And to walk without a tilt

Diggers

Three rows of men lined a field
Arranged by age and social status
Young men and boys lined the first row
Holding shovels and digging
The next row was filled
With old men
Who no longer posessed the strength
To dig like a young man
So they watched and offered advice
As I dug my hole
An old man told me to pace myself
To drink plenty of water
And to always stay positive
But I found it difficult
When I saw a well dressed man
From the third row
Load his pistol
Point his weapon
To the back of the old man's head
And squeeze the trigger
Showering me with my mentor's mind
The old man fell into the same hole
He taught me to dig
And I buried him
Wearing his blood
Wearing his brain
Wearing his shattered skull
Knowing someday my strength will wane
And it will be my turn
To teach children how to dig

The Games

With dazzling heroics
He draws them from their seats
Roaring like wild animals
Who frenzy as they feed
Who tear the meat from bones
With sharply edged teeth
He taunts the constellation
He applauds himself as he feints
His feet dance over petals
He smiles with each escape
Until his Imperator signals
An end to the games

Beyond the brightest shades

Seated in a field of flowers
Who grow taller everyday
Moving only slightly
With the wind and rain
Also toward sunlight
Around the tallest plants' shade
Expanding up to heaven
Silently she prays
She watches the skyline
Meld blue and gray
Unaware of the immense darkness
Beyond the brightest shades

The feather of time rests

The feather of time rests
Unstirred and unmarked
By the black stains of her
Beloved counterpart
She desires to fly a final time
On the wings of her children
Who instead offer
The unknown goddess
An inappropriate massage
The temple of Thmé is empty
The priests and priestesses
Of a bygone era
Rest on an emerald tablet
In the tomb of Thoth

Who hover in the night

Across the green rows, bending
She dances delicately to the sun
Her body brown and crackling
Heat turns her center white
The wind combs her flowing hair
As she removes her golden robe
Exposing what is tender 
To unseen glowing eyes
And to floating teeth
Who hover in the night

Vipers

Crawling backwards
A child writhed in pain
He screamed in horror
At the sight of the veins
Under the skin
Of his hands and arms
Transforming into vipers
Biting in constant repetition
Injecting poison
As they coursed through his body
Reaching his brain
Suddenly, they ceased biting
The serpents coiled
The boy stopped crawling
He turned over
Peacefully falling asleep

Thunder and Rock

Bracing for thunder
He briefly turns to rock
Traveling side to side
Using the valley as a prop
Guarded by javelins
A tribe of blind foragers post guard
Where he croons to the scavengers
As they scurry past the yard