i’ve bled on streets breathing the heat.
i’ve looked for hunters of hearts.
deserted beauty in my eyes, glazed over.
an image of tomorrow un-found.
stones sink into waves, the water is cold.
i’ve burnt my tongue on harsh words sung.
i've lent my hand to cradle the sun.
this broken day, forgot it’s poem.
stones sink into waves, the water is cold.
*
*
*
there is a low hum of silence, it might be the way quiet sounds.
a featherweight pile on your eardrum, the sound of matter breaking down.
hot concrete and a stale breeze, contemplate eternity.
measure me as a lead you to dream frivolously.
the crack and sway above our head, the rain sings to the street.
a rare Northeastern earthquake and all we have left behind.
things we’ve left behind, they stay around here.
paint your whim and carve a home, count the beat of a still heart.
hear the grass as it grows, dance all night to work at dawn.
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