lazy sounds

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A yellow rose
a bright red Moon
these wrinkled thoughts—
they need 
some ironing

I outstretch my arms,
I yawn, I smile—
safe in the knowledge
that I am not 
immortal

                          /Loathing
                          this endless
                          loop of
                          lazy sounds/

*

A yellow rose
a bright red Moon
those wrinkled thoughts—
they crave
some irony

A spider web
some deep, brown eyes—
a saturnine reflection 
in my morning
coffee

                          /Loathing
                          this endless
                          loop of
                          lazy sounds/



*
A yellow rose
a bright red Moon
those wrinkled thoughts—
they need 
some ironing

Where did She go?
I sensed her, near—
yet now she's
nowhere around 
to be seen

                          /O Muse, come back,
                           bearing harmonious gifts—
                           effacing this senseless
                          loop of lazy
                          s o u n d s/

allure

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allure, allure,
a silent sulk
a smile,
a doubt

                ~ A change 
        of  r o u t e ~

a fear of drought,
these crispy beds.
the linens—blue

           ~ The eternal 
      s h a d e s ~

with open eyes
these thought parades—
I sense them all

           ~ The storm 
   p e r v a d e s ~

it rains and rains,
and soaks the truth—
all magic rites

      ~  A silent 
       s u l k ~           

allure, allure
this hidden truth.
a smile,
some doubt,

     ~ This endless 
           s h o u t ~

the sweaty words,
these crispy beds.
the sirens—blue

     ~ The calmness 
           f a d e s ~ 

with open eyes
those thought parades—
I sense them all

                         ~ T h e  s t o r m 
     p   e   r   v   a   d   e   s ~ 

nightsong (published)

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i lightly caress
the tip 
of that mike

As if I was 
about to sing
your yet unwritten
silent

s
o
l
o

instrument naked—
my voice 
about to tickle 
Your well-versed skin

and enticingly 
bite on your
unsuspecting 
earlobe

A mascara tear
drops
and blurs
the mirrored image of 

our 

i
m
a
g
i
n
e
d

coexistence

the one that will never
be read aloud—
same as my solo 
will never ever get sung

it was 
your one and only
a capella kiss

yet that night 
you chose
not to 

l
i
s
t
e
n

to my naked
notes
that bleeding

nightsong