Sunday, April 5, 2015


Carved out
Turned blue from the bleeding
Hollow. The hole, widening
This is a shift, a shake; a welcome, discernible ache.
For in the end, we knew
It would get worse before it became better.

I look out the window
Use, utility, uproot
My exotic angle, under-appreciated.

"I remember my first love."

The Sunday morning behooves these feelings
Amidst bustle of quiet and calm
Respect for depth, unfurling.
McMorrow, slowly ripping tendrils out
Ear first.
And I allow it, Lord how I allow it.

"If I had a boat, I would sail to you..."

Sand-scrubbed, rouge: opaque.

"Speak until the dust, settles in the same familiar place"

In a new place, an unfamiliar home formed
Three-legged and tentacular
Tentacular in that I reached out to accommodate lost appendages
Swirling, disoriented, cracked and crippling.

I'm here, in the same familiar place I've been
Home, into where I've settled
Until the next shakedown opens arms
And a sill with fresh paint.

Turn, squint, see
The breeze of tomorrow, forming
Into today
In a manner befitting
New life.

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