Drier ways

Smells again like rain today. Sounds like skies I’ll undersell To sallow colored dreams. Seems like ash to recollect And dusk to have in memories Consigned to grey that cries For days too mindful of the time to waste, But weather comes and weather goes Despite my sense and sentiment, So best to let the […]


Something on the window pane To paint a dim today, A stained glass understanding Of an incident I call myself, Repeated in the streaks upon This awkward little landscape. And it’s all but neat and easy And I’m all but calm and free To take a lasting look at Passing things that glance Beyond my […]

Subtle names

Let me be the subtlety, The unthought intuition Slowly atrophied Behind it all That no one knows to credit For an effigy today. Let me be the image Drawn by calming tides On sand to grasp A final flame Before the west Avails itself Of all the hours spent in passing, A hint of dying […]

In passing waves

On either side of the flat-hulled boat, wooden benches hung parallel, leaving the center open so the riders could walk freely. Their grain was old and weathered smooth, large threads of lighter wood curling lushly through the dark like unstirred cream and coffee. As I leaned against the roughly painted blue and crimson hull, waves […]

Just a place too far

Just a place along the road To stop and rest a moment, To quiet all the mile-markers Seared across this window, And to listen as the sun makes Mention through the bluing Dusk of what I must’ve missed In such a hurry as I passed, A place for placing silences In makeshift rafts to sail […]

Red-brick circumstance

The circumstances of a brick Accustomed to the stillness, Who every evening hopes To find a pattern in it all, Whose voice is but a faint reply To statements of the passersby, Absorbed into the shadows Where the crumbling mortar falls. A light upon the lattice-work. A mirror of the day. The life of just […]


I always had the clouds to break. I always had the rain to take a bit of blame for crying when the silver linings mirrored what it was here on the ground, always grey to blunt the jeers of daylight like some anesthetic evening born of cold condensed, and I had always pensive melancholy softening […]