The Pale Stare of Noon

The shoveled up bones of a skirmish
Lay plain in the day
Resurrecting the havoc
Of a razor sharp past

Old wounds are made new
Within Sunday’s stern haze
Beneath the pale stare of noon

Carved apart by dusk
By that slaughter long ago
When the mayhem had torn
Through flesh and marrow


Poetry books

The Endless Passage

I will cut apart the apron strings
When the foghorn calls
For me to depart

Through the daybreak mist
Where my former wants
All former foes
Will fade to ghost white

To the new open port
So crowded with ships
Filled with young vagabonds
On their endless passage

The Cool Morning’s Call

Thrashing out of the nest,
The cool morning is calling
Starting as glimmer
Where a black river curves

Rumbling and revving
Never sparking to life
The full day sputters
And binds me to earth

Flattened and defused
Before a nightmare’s whirl
The enraged cyclone
Must claim its revenge


Poetry books

Treading on Sacred Ground

This is the place
Where she’s been all along
Shape-shifting through the years
Dissipating in the night

This new era is hers
Her time to lunge forward,
Cleave apart the intruders
Who stray within reach

Who will spring the trap next?
Fall asunder in her web?
Who will roam in her eyes
With their hands raised high?




A Swift Remedy

Try to stay afloat
Kick with all of your strength and rage
In this struggle of our lives
Towards solid ground’s reach

This night we’ll survive
What we’ve christened “end times”
May the horsemen fall away
From their war-bound steeds

Stay aflight above the stars
They’ll ignite our way
To a swift remedy

A Necessary Mutiny

All of my once waning desires
Now fearlessly scream
In this new and brave era,
As one dignified voice

Swiftly they have scaled
Into the caverns of my mind
To seize the cold reigns,
And jet for new skies

We have left the old roads in the dust
To circle
Mindlessly in silence

We have left the old roads
For a thundering tomorrow
Starved for every morsel sent our way

A Wordless Stroll

A dreamless, rolling pasture
A wordless stroll,
Gives at last
A chance
To breathe,

These dead hours fly
Into a new life raging,
Screaming afar
With a desperate resolve

When the silence is broken
Old quarrels descend
To reclaim what was lost
On the lonely passage

Serpents in the Marsh

Red roads bleed into “Rome”
Into its arteries of gold
Where hopes and prayers
Converge and collide

Its diamond eyes
Gleam vain and defiant
Fighting off the marsh
The sprawled hand of its curse

On its serpent back roads
Stay the course, stay the course
Or be cleaved and devoured
By a rumor in the fog

Iron Forged In a Storm

Let them clash
Against fortitude at last;
The rogue waves in the dark
Rushing forward from nothing

They reveal this vessel’s every fatal fault,
Threatening the hull
With a scheming downpour

When the vessel is beached
With the world astern

They will lure him adrift
On a nocturnal breeze
Until he’s claimed
By rust