Sep 11 2022

building glass houses

because all the mirrors
are broken
and your reflection

always hung
slightly crooked

framed by deckled edge
and past perturbance

and i
for the spot-speckled
lower left corner

while you took
center stage
with your soliloquy
of silence

Sep 1 2022

sitting on the ground in all sorts of places

and today I’m at the edge

of waves and water
water and waves

rolling sound and
rumbling cloud

tumble stumble
around and around
and around

bent clock chiming
a litany of blue
false mirror memories
written only in sand

waves and water
water and waves

wearing down bone-sharp corners and
twisted-knife wounds

ripple dancing
up the coast of blind deception

drowning out the sound
of simple silence
concealed in the shade
of broken boulders


these broken-tainted
pickled ghosts
drinking rich
from thirst’s existence