My Sphinx

For mourning two today, three tonite. Where lies the cusp of death but within the burning night….

Lightness, sightless.

O! A lightness, sightless and bold: oh, its tightness in these moments foretold. How did I do?…

Signalling hours of calming begets, in quiet times, a louder redress as you walk out the room,…

Hour upon hours will I wait for the day that my minutes are due, my second delay…

Koyaanisqatsi, it seems, la vida de extremos, exploitation gone astray leaving only peace.

If notions of oceans acidify our eggs, either poaching undone or reprimandingly, we will cast out the…

Poetry for prowess: let me number the days before sight takes hold, before light makes ways into…

Did you catch it, that squall of a nuptial bed? The acorns’ flew to mountains overhead keen…

Each gulp of death casts its moment deep into gullies, gaps like torrents easing into place; appeasing this…

Should the ashes reburn: fare not that tide of meanderings repentant, a sweltering time spied in the…