autumn still
the air is stiff tonight
with lack of forward momentum
i rest
in a warm stupor
as the madman
reaches for
archaic and acidic poetry
as fluid flames
illuminate another
forgotten soldier

my black and white kitten is late
as i sit at this friendly machine
trying to summon
the spirit of

i’m familiar with this
succulent loneliness
but sometimes i wonder
if these naked walls
are a sanctuary
or a tomb

the first leaf falls
as the song signals
a sentient
and somewhere
out there
old men sacrifice soul
for the empty promise of
sanguiferous sainthood

sometimes it can’t be helped
this persistence of resistance
a quiet stare from the edge
of another dull room
one beer, two beers, twelve
what difference does it make?
waiting for mystery
waiting for passion
waiting for
the maiden
death’s slow kiss

filled with
hollow beats and cold blood
if only we were
watching this listless tragedy
instead of living-dead
worker bees
stretching towards some
elusive and infinite purpose

reluctant healer

eyes closed,
labored breaths
and the resonant hum
of a silver machine
that works overtime
what if all these
screen lit nights
were just allusions of
an alternate tomorrow?

i cannot forgive
so i’ll sit here
the blue moon rises in the east



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