Cultural Graveyard

The roiling masses

scoop ashes of yesterday

into purses of gold,

as they crawl through fog

unaware of its caustic fumes.

 

The scent of lavender

and a glint of emerald light

sneak out from cracked-stone monuments

to dead and misplaced dreams.

 

In the distance

A low wail begins.

 

3-21-19

 

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A Haunted Imago

You seep through my veins

and my mask shifts to accomodate.

The past is swollen, bloated,

yet they worship it,

so we hide in alleyways

surrounded by decaying things–

A haunted Imago,

and misshapen wings.

 

3-21-19

 

Night has Fallen

A cradle lay abandoned

in a darkening room,

as one by one a dozen candles

expire near a forgotten shrine.

 

A bird of prey

perches atop a barren olive branch–

Lord of a dying habitat.

Night has fallen.

 

3-21-19

A Lodestone Abyss

Slowly,

I am drawn to the edge–

Iron flakes

To a lodestone abyss.

 

(I want to fall)

 

The cliff.

Toes grasp

The sharp stone boundary

Between land and air.

 

(I want to fall)

 

My pulse quickens

And I am alive.

Every cell inside me

Hums electric.

 

(I want to fall)

 

Swaying,

Back and forth,

I feel the lodestone

Pull me.

 

(I want to fall)

 

I hear voices

Far in the distance

Whispering dark warnings

Of gravity.

 

(I want to fall)

 

And yet…

And still…

 

(I want to fall)

 

I lean forward,

Just a bit,

And then some more.

Testing.

 

(I want to fall)

 

Frozen–

I stare into the chasm

Restrained by a

Dissipating fear.

 

(I want to fall)

 

The lodestone pulls harder.

The whisper fades.

I close my eyes

And leap.

 

(But can I fly?)

 

3-20-19

Defeat

Fury

Writhes inside me

Daring me to let go.

I drop to the cold earth and scream–

I’ve lost.

3-19-19

After the Rope Breaks

A crow caws

From the skeletal branches

Of the dying tree before me.

It jutts out,

Spear-like,

From the rocky waste

Where I lie broken.

 

A squirrel scampers up and down

Its rotten trunk,

And in my fog

I think he is

Ratatoskr,

Carrying insults

Between the eagle

And the serpent.

 

I try to shout at him,

Tell him to stop,

But my mouth is dust–

Gritty,

And tasting of chalk.

All that comes out

Is a sputter.

 

The world spins.

I heave and retch

From the coppery scent

Of coagulation

Filling my nostrils.

 

Fevered,

I look to the tree,

Searching for Hangi,

But there is just a dying tree,

And no secrets,

This time,

To pull from the well.

 

3-19-19

 

The Liar

Silver-tongued duplicity,

Through languid eyes

Pretend to see.

False confessor,

Plastic friend–

Illusions fade,

Your game will end.

 

02-19-10

A View from Below

A View from Below

Checkerboards upon the sky
And butterflies behind cold eyes,
A million shards, the shattered souls,
Through mist gaze up from secret holes.

A whisper trapped inside the glass,
A star that shines in rotten cask–
Empty the vessel, pour in the truth:
You are the fly, but the web’s in you.

3-4-2019

One Day You’ll Wake

One day you’ll wake,

And it’ll all be gone.

You’ll feel like either you,

Or the world,

Has become alien.

 

Flags will still wave

On the tops of their poles,

Like patriotic cocktail decorations

For giants.

They’ll mean nothing though,

By then.

 

Selfies, politics, cats,

And disasters

Will continue to roll through your

Feeds,

But for once you’ll have lost

Your appetite.

 

The stores will be open,

People will have barbeques

And Super Bowl parties,

But they’ll have nothing,

Not really.

 

It’ll happen,

In time,

To most of you,

You’ll wake to see this

Stark truth,

But by then it will be

Too late,

If it isn’t already.

 

You’ll tear your hair out

Wondering how.

How could we have all

Let this happen?

 

But we will,

We did,

And we are,

Because even when we

Allow ourselves

To think of it,

We don’t think very far,

To what “can’t be”

Because it’s just

Too bad,

But somehow

Still is.

 

The end won’t come

Announced on CNN,

The New York Times,

Or the Huffington post.

They’ll still be shouting

Their warnings

Unaware.

 

The media will be

Frozen,

Stuck in a traumatic repetition

Of their warnings,

Unable to accept

That they were ignored,

While ignoring the nightmare

That surrounds them.

 

You’ll see.

It’ll all be gone.

Everything that matters,

Everything needed to

Sustain our humanity,

Will just be

Gone.

 

But you’ll still be here.

Awake.

Aware.

Maybe that’s

The worst part of all.

 

12-17-2018

 

 

 

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