a sonnet in memory of nothing

has flown a single hour or countless days?
the truth exists between these two extremes.

our shadows pace down recollected ways

and passing time dissects the inmost dreams

did I first reach for you? or you for me?

or did we reach a silent compromise?

complicit anti-angels, we were free

from morals but not free from mortal lies.

the knife that cuts the deepest is too dull 

for drawing lines between a whispered no

and shouted yes. and eyes, so over full 

with tears they could not see, did tears forgo.
Thus passed some hours a year ago or ten.

Someday perhaps forget the why or when

Sonnet for the unlucky ones

No heroes in our shared mythology.

Few rights, much wrong, the gods have cursed this song

and yet, we sing it anyway. A plea:

atoning sins with volume ever strong.

Regrets weigh heavy, clinging vines of doubt

As kudzu, joining fear to fear to fear

‘Til all despairs are one – a mass without

A name or number, formless, vague, unclear.

We push against the weight; we watch for light,

and anthems, cool as water, soothe and calm.

In darkness, they are balm against the night.

We pause, and listen; yield, and yet- push on.

Solutions there are not to this our fate.

Abide, reside in solitude – and wait.

i consider desperate moves

dodges, breakaways, headfirst headlong dives into air

that smells of peaches and crawling mosses

my hand disappears into rock soft as sunlight

trapped, my head bobs on the surface of deniable waves

i turn, breathe, and surrender

to the terrible wonderful finality

of drinking down the day

Continue reading