I wonder if the stars get anxious

When the sun begins to crest

The edge of a world sleeping?

The moon of course is always touched

And on occasion visits her brother

But the star with no name

Save an account in some ancient book

Has no quarter but with darkness. 

Who notices her shimmer?

Who counts the moments she strives to shine? 

And should she weep, would even the sisters give comfort?

In briefest moments, she gives light and takes care of a wish drifting by

But twilight comes, as the celestial perfection emerges

So, I wonder, do the stars grow anxious

As do I?


Press against resistance

deliver from moments left on the floor

scattered across the hall

I run.

Seething at darkness creeping

into photograph ghosts left hanging

littering walls with pain

I run.


Where can I go
Where the images cannot touch memory
and memory not ravage tender heart bleeding?

and so I run
down halls with walls hung with tears.

Quiet Insanity

Carelessly discarded memories

wind down hallways

creep behind creaking doors

seep surreptitiously under crack

over disembodied dusted frame

escape rug left to withered worry

flicker light to shimmer

in darkness

a light in the dark.

taunt tear to tear from windows nailed shut

cast image, mad shadows on walls

from a multitude of fires unattended

I’m lost to incoherency and try

footsteps evade ever corner

hands scrape on walls littered in oil stains

left behind

stumble up stairs

fall over mangled menagerie hand built and wanting for life

wanting to survive

oh my quiet insanity

will you not be kept so?







(written 3 years ago – rediscovered today)

Here it goes again
voice lingering out of reach
echoing on an undefined horizon
beyond sun and moon
captured by stars yet flickering

… must be invisible

words shatter on the floor
broken glass unheard
hand brushes through shadow
smoke filtering between lips

I know must be invisible

So I lift my pen
write your name in the stars
tether the wind to call where you are
gather tears to make it rain
build castles out of leaves in a storm

I hope I am not invisible
but I think I must be

Because I want to write
but tears fall where
ink should
and no one can read tears
invisible ink
invisible me

I really must be invisible

Pieces for sale

Pieces on the floor
memories I tried
to throw


some of them are glued
some of them are tapped
suffering on the table of my life
too precious to get rid of
too broken

here I sit
in this chair
night comes and dawn surfaces
night comes again and still
I am here
unable to move

unable to move

Oh God
Pieces of me lay on the floor
and I’m not sure what to do anymore
pieces of me




I want to post a sign
for free
take these little
mismatched and un-
wanted pieces
from me
put them on a shelf
love them
like some one else
give them a home
make them yours
I will gladly give in
I will gladly throw in
one more

pieces of me
pieces of me
my god
lying on the floor
on the floor


… with intent.

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