Giving Ground

I.

The air was cement
in the afternoon sun

I counted the stains
on the upholstery
on the backs of chairs
until The Law walked in

I was brighter then
I am warmer now


II.

At Eleven O’Clock
the pain set in

I clutched your thigh
through gritted teeth

I’d heard what you said
I never heard you say a word


III.

The Law was restless
pistol hand on grip

I tried to keep my eyes down
as her visage shook my soul

The air in my throat
grew thicker still


IV.

There were just us three,
two tables and a pistol between

You stood to leave with elegance
as I floundered, chair to floor

I spat your name as the door swung


V.

The Law saw my despair
and her pistol hand was mercy;

She shot me twice

and waited

for the light in my eyes to go out

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The Light has Returned (Sestina)

Beyond the pinpoint of midnight there is a light.
And within that dollop of a spark there is heat,
The flames jockeying for position on a red wick.
From a hand protrudes a slender white candle
That connects to the silhouetted body of a man
There, some unknown messenger of long lost hope.

Like Noah’s dove, he has returned holding hope.
Grasping securely onto the remains of a guiding light
Wax slides onto his fingers as he raises the bright candle,
Incandescence illuminates the hands of this man
Coalescing gently over his skin, it purges liquid heat.
A wavering glow, desperate sparks cling to the wick.

A filament pyre, colors of fire race through the wick,
Cycles of autumn re-imagine the vision of hope
And will long sought deliverance be found in this man?
Has he come that we may walk in his marvelous light?
We in darkness have dreamed of knowing heat,
But until now have had no way to light our candles.

A great and reviving jubilation exudes from the candle
An ever-changing aura of flames frolic on the wick.
The winter of darkness has been overcome by heat.
And with that warmth comes an even superior hope,
As our eyes swell with promise at this newfound light
And it draws deliberately nearer in the arms of this man.

But why would he be mindful of another man?
Who are we that he would care for our extinguished candles?
Why would he come to crown us in his light?
Yet he beckons, that we would come near to his wick.
He promises to generously share this flare of hope,
And we will be renewed by the heritage of its heat.

Carrying the fire, our own bodies will emanate his heat
Selflessly given to us by this figure much more than a man.
And from his coming, we will walk forward in hope,
Abiding in the sight afforded to us by his candle
With his offering we are captivated by the golden wick
That we may forever return with him to the city of lights.

With the consuming heat that radiates from this man
We have understood that he is our only hope and as his candle
Has lit our wicks to burning, he declares, “I am the light!”

Hello July

July came
with reduced heat
but plenty of shine,
flexing its thermal muscles,
ramping up
to what will be unbearable,
giving good reason
to flee northward
and not return
till fall’s respite.

spring heat burning

it is spring and i want so many things
things that are gothic at the store
or your asian friend
things i must say in code,
things i must talk around,
things touring italy and france
the ones who wear the tank tops
and the short shorts
the things who wear the horizontal
stripes and the thick rimmed
glasses or the ones who play
drums,
or speak czech or russian
or german or…french
i want to take them and inject
them into my veins,
i want them to reciprocate
in the backseat of a honda
accord
oh! i want so many things
for it is spring;
my life is rejuvinating and i need
all of these things to fill
the increasing void in the
pit of my stomach,
while the thought
of what my life would be is
eating away at it.

The Bad Summer Daze

O how many summer mornings shall be filled with anger

When cooperation can be the first solution ?

*

O how many summer mid days are filled with joy

While pain exists so deep within our souls ?

*

O how many summer evenings drag on in dullness

Without distraction or relief from all the hurt ?

*

O how many more days must I wait in the heat

While time continue to pass me by ?