If I were a child
I would let it dripseep like smokea cloud of dreamsin pink, in blue, my favorite-I will not share it.Maybe with her,when she is back homewith apron on-Did I say a cloud?I meant cotton candysticking on my fingers,my nose.But I am not.I am already 10.
Fellow Men
A wave breaks on Dover Beachwhere shatteredelbows, fractured kneessurviveas tokens.Far aboveon the cliff a man points a fingertowards the unknown distant shores,towards fellow men,their teethcrowned with gold,grouped with pearls and a globe,resting on a library of mahogany.
How do you piece back together an old broken marionette?
Do you begin with what lingers,the torso, the keeper of form? Or with the lower limbsthat remember balance?And when a piece is shattered, how do you reshape it?Do you spend the better portion of a lifecollecting what was lost,or do you forge it anew?And when you mend a fracture,will the shoulder forget its old pain?Will…
Convoluted Ego (Redeux)
Buried behind the masked myth of erudition lay I—a broken marionette yearning for a bosom.From tongue to tongue, from age to age, I sought a friend.I scampered around, swinging mynakedstub. But for the fear offrivolity and the scythe of judgement, Iunfurled not my letters upon the canvas of man. But when I do, I convolute…
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