Loose Gloves (& Atmospheric Pressure)

How impressionable 

The slipping reflection of lamplights

Flipping like a film in eyes of morning

Fire hydrants of red, wet with golden ideals

An image of disregard—the street corners

Places you haven’t been, untouched shadows

The time considers advancement, but there is no place for it on your wrist

A drifting breath from the stranger’s gaze

The sociopath gripping at your hands is blindly delighted

To find a dime in the palm for a penance sought through paper

A founded love for the meaning depicted by the pen

A city asleep, unseen graffiti is spread against our eyelids

Do the bats fly westward? It would be fitting

The man carries a cane, the support of a toothpick,

Strolling abandoned walkways; respect sought after 

A dead end with an unknown consequence

Curiosity inspired,

The bats support his dignity as it splinters with the cane

A better life out west, carry on my surname. 

Resorting to Candles in a Power-Outage

Whispers like a cloud sifting through the sky
A tragedy bound adolescent ascending the stairs
A cluster of bruises, a course set by the winds
The waning screams of authorities act as a lullaby
The tornado sirens become a comforting ideal
Reverberations of the sound of the city below,
A cranial configuration of concern
Balancing beam-- can you hover above the storm?
The sun is blocked, no more shadows, just a still absolute
A silence before the thunder, 
Have a cigarette to calm you in this silence
Here’s a light. 

several short, simple poems.

I slide by through the hallways
Glancing out each window
To capture you momentarily with my eyes
I can’t speak
My dialogue is only thoughts
Bravery, I left behind
With my heart in a spiraling knot. 

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Even In This Weather
 
 Can you pick me out on the avenue?
It seems that I’m crawling with needles
They upholster my spinal bones
Emotions swim in the clouds, brewing.
If we were stitched into a sweater
Could we keep it together?

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Put your hand over my mouth
I can’t keep it shut
I’m an endless void
That lacks the guts .

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The minute hand is getting lost in the hour
The clock fits into the pupils in your eyes
Transfixed on each other, but I’m watching the time
You don’t dare to blink because you’ll know I’ll be gone
We were just a second off. 

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I don’t dare to write more than five lines
I realized this the last time
My words are so small and insignificant
They just contribute to a larger distance
I used to try to fill in the blank
___________________...

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