all this joint misery
was for my own sake
do you expect me then to leap to my feet,
race towards it?
I am as one who reaches for a crown
won by blood
tainted triumph, bitter on these lips,
does not taste of victory
and you say it is enough
for me to have needed this
our combined suffering, a heavy price
don’t you know I am as lost as before
trying to reassemble these ruins
in a way that makes sense
so misery births art,
out of the ashes of myself, creations emerge
this coliseum crumbling under
hungry tourist eyes, they marvel
at these relics without
pausing to recognize the ghosts in the air,
the marble tombstone of an entire age,
that these traces of greatness
are only evidence of their own demise
true, they are broken and beautiful
these little shreds of myself
but would it not have been better
to remain intact?
A glass of water to clear my throat please,
and I will tell you who Truth is
It seems that these days few hold the keys
to that sacred vault of his
Continue reading I will tell you who Truth is
Wind buffets from all sides. Clouds hug the edges of the hills like the white for lining of a coat. “It’s time,” I hear the children say. This strikes me odd because I’ve never met a child who was friends with Time. Or anyone, really. Continue reading The Gift of Time
It was a horribly good day to buy a book.
The rain was slashing across the street, swiping people’s faces left and right and dribbling down their cheeks as if impersonating their inner tears, as they cried internally about such weather as this.
The wind was vicious; it seemed to shove me this way and that as if it couldn’t quite make up its mind on where exactly it wanted to send me. I tucked my chin to my chest and plowed forward as well as I could.
Water rolled off the rooftops and ran down the streets, it showered those of us brave enough to face it and drenched our coats and bags. It washed dirt off of windows and threatened to make the sea overflow. It baptized the town for Autumn. Continue reading A horribly good day to buy a book
has anyone noticed how these Romeos and Juliets have multiplied?
for that Love of which they’ve heard, they search the whole world wide
mascara for the masquerade, to obscure eyes that might’ve held stars
the suitors, dressed in that immature chivalry, begin their own wars
soon they’ll have plucked every rose from the earth, and you’ll see
an army of air-headed Juliets, sighing on the balcony
Continue reading On the Romeo and Juliet Epidemic: A Poem