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Apologies for my apologies


Apologies for the mess.

I’m currently working on getting everything situated and put in order.

Thank you for your patience and understanding.

Poetry posts
Short story posts

Book Progress

Sojourners
 
Current Status:Final draft editing
The Pegasus Fiasco
 
Current Status:Completed
Outsiders
 
Current Status:Chapter 10 rough draft
Threadbare
 
Current Status:Chapter two rough draft

Recent Posts

  • Injection

    So, there with an elixir
    Made of all that couldn’t mix
    A vial full of colors so bereft of any picture
    That I’d painted or beheld
    Or in dependency compelled
    To be liniment was nothing but a fix

    And shaking it to cause it to appear
    As though it could combine all the opaque and all the clear
    To merge into a serum that my blood could thus adhere
    But by the time the needle drew single, solitary drop the mixture that should be would disappear

    By slowest calculation
    Of the many moving parts
    Constituent ingredients
    Arranged by separation
    Like the chambers and the valves of any heart
    They offered no obedience
    Within the circulation
    Of the sanguinary circuits that I tried, but couldn’t chart

    So passing any passiveness of pointed introspection
    And seeing in a mirror made of mercury, reflections
    That made me wonder why I cared to prove a safe connection
    When in truth it wasn’t truth that I was hoping to behold from the injection

  • Unfurling

    Could I become the reason why
    There’s something more to wake and choose to find
    With fingers curling slowly on a blade that none could pry
    …are reasons really good enough to sever or to justify the bind?

    I wonder, all the same,
    If it was shame or just a name
    Or just an answer that I needed
    So that something fully realized could shield me from the blame as I retreated

    Believing, there in diffidence,
    Were isolated islands in an ocean made of beads
    And there, within a sky I knew was painted cold in insolence
    …I tried to be the reason I continued drawing breath through broken reeds

    Peculiar, in a sense,
    That each lament was mere pretense
    And that, with fingers slowly curling
    ’round the blade I feared to hold, I simply called it self-defense instead of calling it reality unfurling

  • Culprit

    I take those imperfections and I tuck them all away
    I file them succinctly under letters labeled Z through A
    I put in little pictures, annotations to relay
    The reason that they’re there as if to measure some dimension of decay

    And organizing every bit of failure that I find
    I tell myself it’s like a map to places where I’m surely blind
    And labeling the evidence I carefully designed
    I casually connect the dots and hope that it’s a path to peace of mind

    I put the frailest fragments like they’re pins upon a board
    And stretch a length of yarn between them all in search new reward
    As if, there in the middle, I can find the real discord
    The poison underneath so that an antidote I’m finally moving toward

    I take all of the answers and I file them, you see
    In folders, alphabetically arranged, I labeled A to Z
    I put in new addendums, black and white photography
    That always seem to show that there’s an answer there, below,
    But it’s hazy and just maybe I’m a little more than crazy
    But sometimes I think the culprit that I see is merely me

  • Returned

    With bags beneath these weary eyes
    And memories of dead end skies
    Where not a cloud was ever far from view
    How was it greetings led us to a desolate adieu?

    And waking with your phantom lost
    To circumstances and their cost
    Where what I had to pay I never thought
    Nor did I ever wonder what it was I should’ve bought

    Instead of what I chose to choose
    By giving what I lost to lose
    As if a ring I fitted in a dream
    While hoping it would rest upon the finger of a queen

    A copper crown I put to flame
    As if it were an absent name
    But even then the emeralds never burned
    And so I chose to see it as an omen for a heart to be returned

  • Turbulence

    The pin dropped
    And then stopped
    Circles made of sound were flattened low
    Joining “can’t” to words of “have to know”

    And sound rose
    Around those
    Travesties of tenuous regard
    Turning tender tenebrous and charred

    The chime brings
    Divine wings
    Chapters set in books not fully penned
    Merging “I mistook” with “duly tend”

    But set low
    Was threat, so
    Tapestries of every spurned offense
    Carried far away in burned dispense
    And when the pin no longer made a sound
    The only thing it left was turbulence