Parliament Murder

And all around the Parliament crows
The blackest murder in stiffened rows
With beady eye and narrow beak
The gathered still for the rook to speak

The king descends for balances and checks
His black and white opponent interjects
With queens and nights of forgotten lore
Calling forth the shadows to fall once more

His case he pleads with graveyard chills
Ascending the spine of the storytelling's quills
Etching in sand with bloody ink
Stains the carrion feeders drink

The defendant's screeching slowly dies
In quickening silence the Nothing replies
The murder's intent the prey's fierce cry
Outs him 'til his eyes tear dry

loss of presence

birthed by the same Creator, yet there is "I"
such a lonely stranger as I hear whispered echoes of mysteries I cannot know
something felt.

breezes translated against my ear
my arms raised to see for my blank eyes
presence lingered and I knew (and was known)

hearts held by each other
our voices still-
dawn rose quietly to surround us as we rested so softly
we were suddenly (and quietly) taken

the dappled and dewy light now hides you
all the world seems to droop these days
the sun no longer just rises and sets
it seems to be an eye that turns down in all the corners of the earth

it is autumn; the moon is full with its harvest of souls
(invading even mine)
the leaves aren't rising with the wind
turning under, they wreath my head as I sit below

innocence is not my crown, but rather, experience
-right before it falls and fails.

night lengthens and canopies me under-
(dusky intimacies)
bending 'neath, such weighty joy.

(the feeling of absence is still more profound.)


It was an August afternoon
when I heard the tip-toe sound
of something trying to end.

Our memories,
long placed on pause,
had decided to stretch
and grasp
for the remote control
that lie breathing slow
under my couch cushion.

That powerful remote
your presence in my life.

At my touch
the tape went fuzzy.
Black & white
bobbed under strobe lights.

I heard the splash and buzz
of a thousand interrupted scenes,
feet next to each other on the coffee table,
blown kisses,
movie kisses,
hello-again kisses,
kisses that lacked zing,
kisses that meant everything;

late night moods that revealed our inner insanity
and connection,
and our most embarrassing laugh.

I wanted to dive for those memories
collecting around my ankles like pools of water.
I wanted to chase the liquid of them
with a force
that would cause evaporation
to surrender.

But I couldn’t.

For a moment
I saw everything clearly.

And the next moment
made it all disappear.

spinning tunes of gold
whirring and rushing round
lights playing
with the tones of your voice
rings of sound that settle about
(rippling love-lights
like eyes that are full)

blurry eyes peeling away the unapproachable horizon
(to a highway of roaming eyes that search
how i and time would crawl to reach
-so, i flew.

separation grasped with hands by a wire
(but i only feel
impressions of you)

missing you in absence
wanting you in presence
(the truth is so undeniable.)

my heart-


Because it's you and me, marionettes on the stage
And the whole world's with us behind the scenes
We sing and we dance, in manifest chance
Creeping the pages of recorded time
'Til our strings entwine in the bitter design
And our scenery falls with our painted dolls
Brief candle dissolves to halted applause
Revealing the puppeteers behind the play

But your world isn't my world all lost in a dream
My world doesn't turn on a perfect routine
Life's but a poor player
We're all puppets on the stage
This life's just a game we pretend to play
But today I'm removing the mask

So much longing, so little time

There is a song inside a meadow
four continents away
and a letter being written,
expressing just what I would say
if I were listening at the door
of two children talking quietly
in the dark,
with a flash light,
under bed sheets.

The Horror, The Horror.

A light shines bright in darkness,
Revealing all it can.
Talent brings forth progress,
Uniting man and man.

Darkness always lingers.
It’s but a breath away.
Genius breaks through boundaries,
But pride leads to decay.

All the opportunity,
Both the worst and best;
A chance for light or darkness,
It all in one man rests.

A word a bit too forceful,
Or perhaps a strong wind blows,
The candle flame will gutter,
And darkness will enclose.

For all the choices made,
And all the chances lost.
For all the roads untaken
And all the travel costs.

What words will one man utter
When he discovers what he’s lost?