I fancied a stroll through the park the other day, but the promenade called my name. I asked “What makes you the better for my steppers?” “Well, the salt spray feels nice on your face.” It was right, I did like that — but it was already raining, so I kept on keeping on…

A poem — In views that cease to wonder, And a blotted scarlet gaze — Before the roaring thunder Comes the flashing lightning rays. Supreme, almighty power Yields to none, no teeth or stone, Save the minute and the hour, The briefest moment to be known. Blink and miss it, if you dare…

Sonnet IV — lost within yourself —

A purgatorial existence — In morning’s light shimmering O’er the green knoll pass, Spy’d the sparkle and glimmering Of the homestead of glass; Its glinting of stars And veneer of moon, Bely implications too far To reveal so soon; I lie in wait patiently as the day advances to noon. Searing sun o’er head…

A flaying of the mind — Beyond the coves and bays and sounds, a thick’ning fog casts ships aground, whereupon the rock, crashing waters break, and leaves the souls for brine to take. The midnight hours are sick’ning dark, heaving ghastly glowing sparks; birthing foetid remnants of space, and incomprehensible remains. In early light, the ire rests, while slowly leaching pestilence; infecting…

Misbegotten Eloquence —

A poem — when the mirror shatters your image is scattered — across the space and things betwixt, where roiling time saw poise and aplomb swept away by incognizance when the window falls shut your doors too close up — momentum giving way to devilish inhibitions, your pedigree searing at the past’s malcontent …

Halloween Poetry — Prepare to parley at the soirée reception, the partisans have arrived, we may finally begin. In the courtyard the trees are whistling in the wind, while the shadows they cast look delightfully grim. The leaves are all burning and turning at the tip, and Luna has changed into her sultry red slip…

A Freeform Micropoem —

A fresh start — Nature preaches messages not too often heard, From a broken twig to a tattered leaf — lessons to be learned. Pulverized and obsolete and too anemic to feel, Cries of help fall on deafened ears surrounded by concrete and steel. The disparity between life and death is made abundantly clear, As…

As I wish to be. — I push and pull a stone that feels no remorse or yearning or despair, the stone remains blissfully unaware, as if I were never there. I roll it on up the hill then let it slink back down, it leaps and bounds all around but never makes a sound. I…

Flash fiction in a series of limericks. — They’re rather rich they say, the Goldane family name, and Beau can attest to his prestigious crest that his father had paved the way. With wits about the trade, and keen investments made, the old man said, “If you keep a clear head, your debts will surely be repaid!” Well…

The candle wanes —

The blending of the senses. —

Or perhaps several. — What’s it like to know how it ends? To see where you’re going, and recall where you’ve been? Does it bother you so, to be ever lucid? To be left unsurprised, to know what the truth is? It must be cumbersome, they must expect so much, Referring your conscience and belaying…

The end of an era — To see what no one else may see, to peer through enlightened tints, the eyes lay the bricks of what’s to come and the mind sticks in with hints. The human condition’s inevitable prophecy self-actualized and now wrought, an ascension of cognitive function brought to destiny our collective thoughts. In…

Can you find the truth within? — I could not feel anything save for the mist encompassing the spires its apparent weight like a tangible illusion I could see it I could feel it yet sat suspended in the air as if hanging from the branches preparing to conjure more of the sounds I hear in the wood the yawning expanse suffused with gossamer saturated with the ethereal now suffered the pinpoints…

Sonnet III —

Freeform Poetry About My Homeland — Whether feeling the wind beneath your wings or inhaling the salty air, the coast and port leave no retort, too mystical to compare. The grass and trees extend to a point of sudden stop, where sand and stone make their home and critters hide in rocks. The shore is lined…

Sonnet II —