Monthly Archives: September 2018


haunt me in the matisse way
faithless until prayer hits the charcoal
cut your ear off in undiagnosed madness
and run the streets in a straw hat
chasing down van gogh.
haunt me
with a single note over the speakers
the vinyl spinning
cracking the static whip
cold floors beyond a stagnant town.

fight for your faith
while doggedly fearing others
hold onto words that shut the door
on new visions of rebirth.
wear the madness under your straw
kneel and pray in an empty vessel –
crazy is still misdiagnosed
isolation in its openness
swallows you
a snake squeezing its apple.

don’t haunt me beautifully
but haunt me – still.
pandora creaking hinges
whispering to a full yell
and laughing a jarring lid
while you understand finally
a misdiagnosis has no key to fit
the treatment.

imagine there’s no heaven
….we hardly even have to try now
and this revelation

haunts me.



there is a bird on my hand
i am a soldier
so still – still
there is this bird
i am its statue
– to move would mean my death
but as a statue i am everlasting
standing tall in a roman gallery – backyard.
there is a
bird on my hand
and my war is no longer needed.

labour day

place your dirty feet beside mine
we will go walking
somewhere that will swallow us whole
a canopy so thick
sunlight has to recreate itself
and merge with the sounds unknown to moonlight.

Russian weather (after the rain)

outside is a wet towel
this humid house drapes over shoulders
and the coffee is an eternal steam bath.

how do you sleep with the door closed?

stuffing all this moisture into one room?

the birds do not even bother to speak
and no one takes advantage of this last day of Summer before

if the sun comes out later in the day
the backyard and front street will become a Russian bathouse
and no one wants the discarded towels from a russian bathhouse.

so sleep i suppose

sleep off the midnight shift and i will wait for you

there is nothing else to do in the weather
except write and read
perhaps finish a coffee and turn off the radio.

Morning Prayer

she is the sunlight
Fall of my eyes
september’s October
and All Soul’s Day

Standing on a log

as i stared off into the woods i thought
what a wondrous thing to behold
and yet wondered
is this where it all began?
while finding comfort in knowing
i would never know…
being grateful to see all this in front of me
and hoping that in the end
what ever came next –
would hold me equally captivated
and thankful

%d bloggers like this: