Saturday, March 26, 2016

Melancholy Breath

These overcast mornings
Wrap their acidic arms around me
In burning fumes of industry 
Last night's cigarettes permeate
My hair, I drift quietly through
The stifling air, warm to the touch
How do all the little green things
And new spirits survive here? 
Perhaps they learn to breathe in this world
This shred of dirty existence,
This perfume-bleached, humid stillness
This solitude we have lined with
Screaming horns and crying children
Voices layering together
Close enough I can taste the wet and hot
Excess from the depths of your chest. 


Sunday, March 6, 2016


The sacred moment of your gaze
Before the light of dawn softens
Your pupil's depth, soaked in
Whiskey shots last night
At a loud bar on the corner,
Your lips slip into a smile
And I have become a mirror
Of these tender expressions,
Stretch your delicate form,
Graceful night fairy, grant me
This foggy morning wonder---
Steaming coffee I made
Cradled by cold hands.