One-Winged Angels

It becomes so hard to fly sometimes
Keep getting set off track
By the simplest of breezes
And just like so many wilted flower arrangements
I feel what my extremities are lacking
Like a nail straight through my soul
What my heart is ceasing to provide any longer
Life

"Never changed a damn thing."

The Beloved

"I dreamed that the world was crumbling down. We sat on my back porch and watched it."

We picked out our convoluted lives
Stacked them high with all intentions
Best or otherwise
I held your hands in mine
Led you and yours softly down the bank
And one by one ushered you into the rushing current
I watched your faces swell and burst
With excitement, exultation, ruin
And I went about my way
I led others, I followed so long as I had to
And when I needed you
I called you each by name and waited
I took your frigid hands and heaved
But your bloated corpses only floated silently downstream
It seems the one whom God helps, I cannot save
But the ones God forsakes, I take in rapturously
You rush to the waters so boldly
I haste to repeat
And we feel so passionately close
As I slide your hands down my wet skin
And slip away to leave you to the river

"Oh how I want you to know me."

Even the Most Uninspiring Good News Monday

It's only a matter of time
A day of reckonings
I keep up with only one
A tribute to forgotten friends
Lost acquaintances
Chardonnay and celebration
It's only a matter of crying
Nothing new under the sun
Save for nightfall and terrors
Slips and retribution
New trends, old fans, single catatonic episodes
Sing me something
Sweet and sultry
Stare me down
Blink once and this is over
Only a matter of time
Until we define what we're trying to find
Lost on highways and higher than our greatest expectations
What is it we're running from?
But is it even anything?

Words, Words, Words

"I swear, I really feel like the devil every time I talk to you."

"Let me read it."

"No. It's not finished yet. You play a really critical role at this point, and I'm afraid that you'll get the wrong impression."

....Or maybe the fear is that you'll get too much of the right impression.

First impressions always seem to kill me. Scribbling poetry on scraps of paper, posting them online, table cloths and napkins, my own bare palm. Most of which, you'll never even see.

For an Angel No More

She was an angel
Maybe not of the highest choir
Or of beauty most supreme
But an angel, nonetheless
Not his, of course
That was all his fault, anyway
Clawing out the last bit of perfection from her face
With an outstretched arm
Just trying to reach her
Moments before the fall
.
.
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All she ever wanted was to learn how to fly

Hermes

Kicking cobblestones and throwing lives off the tops of nine-story parking decks
Walking alone down darkened streets desperately seeking the stars in the sky
I know there's a moon up there somewhere, too
I know you're up there
I wish that you could hear me as I whisper through the night
Because right now
No less than a million things I could easily say to you
Roll off my tongue and to the ground
And right now
No less than a million hollows that would like nothing better
Than for me to stop talking to myself
It makes them uncomfortable
To see a stranger in the streets with an idea he can't help expressing
I can finally see the moon now
I hope it's listening intently
So maybe it can bear my message away
.
.
.
.
How I wish that you could hear me

Euthanasia Silhouette

If I could take any three poisons with me to the grave, you would be the first two.