Wordle #272


I want only to
stop moving,
to be still and heavy,
a bowl of silvery light
splintered and echolalic.

Drop by drop
my tears curl at the corners
singed by the jealousy
that produced them.

Time dribbles by,
oil and velvet,
class and compulsion.
Sleep is the strongest analgesic.

Why is busyness a virtue?
Why must we hurry and worry?
I do not know myself.
I do not know free will.
I have given myself up.

A very stressful and hectic last few days. Jealously has nothing to do with it but I put that word in because of the Wordle.


Wordle #126 “October 24th, 2016”

Week 126.png

I love you more than life ever did
and you love me as someone
who aspires only to forget.

Slowly deconstructed pathways
search through skeins of wraiths
and bedizened zones too cluttered for passage.
Will we ever find each other?

With only a handful of crayons
you can seduce me.
The alexithymia of your art-
hives of filthy keepsakes-
worn to gristle in conversation.

I get lost in your convexity,
in your spasticity, in your intricate musings.
Were it not so punishing
I might even yield to your damper.

I am only as strong
as the beliefs that I examine
To look within again and again
until the blood boils over.

Wordle #270


I kick at your insulation,
at your smile as it fades
into oration.
I would listen to you talk
all night if it would save me
the enunciation
of my own bungling sentiments.

You are not original.
Heel, toe, line
lines flashing,
lines insistent
lines without terminus
or dominion.

Without statement
you are trivial and cold.
A park in the depth of winter.
I adhere to your limits,
so much as they admit me.

You are a terrible mimic.
My rims quiver and itch.
Alone, in a valley
of infinite selves.

My heart flips and fritters.
I am envious of silence,
of open spaces,
of transience
and all who appear
inevitably before me.

If only I could tolerate myself
long enough to become someone else.

I am really struggling to express myself at the moment. My anxiety has been particularly high lately.

Wordle #125 “October 17th, 2016”


My tears are not uniform,
vast as human vocabulary,
they shudder in passage.
I ration them carefully,
always in odd numbers
that you will not think me devious.

I will not apologize for offering
myself, as torchwood, to the forge.
I, who denote nothing,
shall be made to order.
I, who denote everything,
shall invariably be broken.

It is in your terrible image
that I seek lavation,
a love skulking behind
two window-less eyes.
So long as I am alive
I shall want for something
how could it be otherwise?

Your heart burrows
into my hollows, filling me
with pneumatic fits of delirium.
The air hangs at my side
sharp and precise,
millions of invertebrate wings
melting between us.

Wordle #124 “October 10th, 2016”


The vitrification of tears
on a chance encounter,
a cygnet grey and adrift
falters underneath a veil of corruption.

I draw the bandage
until the underlying muscle turns blue.
What good is a heart that lessens
for fear of the inexplicable hereafter?

I am not bold or righteous.
An emergency frail as the fringe on fennel
I cater to my wounds, to my devices,
running myself ragged in circles.

Photo Challenge #133 and Wordle #269


– Slrlounge.com

I pass through

your interstitial glades

jostling the breeze,

a tide of green.

Is this heaven or the dream

that ends all others?

The final dream.

The soil erodes

beneath the lake’s steady hands.

From the mist I fashion a bridge.

The sky is stark,

a muddled trail of clouds

stretched to gossamer.

I am needless,

filling the folds of my dress

with festive trim.

Remember me as a living thing,

not as I am to appear

at the conclusion of this trip.

Life is not good or gracious,

at times absurd, at times discordant

but my god I loved every minute.

For who but I could conceive

of these wolves, these views

always hungry, smiles vicious

behind crutches of trees.


Wordle #123 “October 3rd, 2016”


A torrential chorus,
of grievances wrought and wrung
from a spectral dusk.
A denominator, belated and illborn.
Can a human BE nothing?

I slip into inertia
as if it were a tapestry.
An unconscious brawl
tumbling around
my battle-blackened birdcage.

Will you serve me? Defy me?
Walk a crow’s mile in my stead?
Guttersnipe, button-chaser, beloved
what does it take to break even?

I had several ideas for this poem but I was always away from my computer at the time. It started in bed in the middle of night but I completely forgot the opening lines and then later I had some great ideas but had to go to my daughter’s school. Literally nothing I originally wanted to put into this poem went into this poem.

Wordle 268


I shoulder your wisps,
your novel impositions
cool as a reflection.

Within your harmonies
I spin and billow,
a barge of blades and fins.

I lock my fingers
around your heart
a bridge of palpitations.

Do not cross me,
do not scatter me
as grains in celebration.

Why must we filter?
trivial as water color, I ache and fold.
Distance is only an illusion.