one more page

I’m just
a page
you turned 
            in a book
            you finished 
and left
behind

unspoken

                feelings

                are like

                snowflakes

I hold them on my tongue

until they melt away

November

Something old

Something new

I have no idea 

what to do

Something borrowed

Something blue

I’ve never loved 

someone like you

24 June 2023

143 (a collaboration)

I’ve 

waited all my 

life for you 

for  

someone to love 

— who loves me

I 

wouldn’t change a

single thing

I 

have no regrets 

about us

And
Neither do I 
I love you

golden thread

a glittering
golden thread
ran sideways
through my head

what I'd guessed
now I know
it left a purple
after-glow

hubris

may God forbid
I fall into
the trap of think-
ing every word
I write or say
is somehow art
and worthy to
be set in verse.

Poetry Explained

recognizing poetry
as a subjective
thus ineffective
mode of communication,

the logical mind
rationalizes it's existence
as a sort of
error message:

a literary manifestation
of a glitch in the
operating system of
the human brain.

Void

this is a barren presence

like the surface of Mars

but without the interest

that fosters exploration

rovers do not wander

this featureless expanse

to transmit grainy photos

of the landscape

indeed, this object

is not directly observed—

it's existence implied
by barely perceptible
wobbles in the orbits
of surrounding bodies

I've made an effort

I've made an effort
to render my poetry
less accessible—
I've revised my revisions
and removed the imagery.

The Emperor-of-Poetry

The Emperor-of-Poetry,

vainglorious
        of his dress,

purports to wear
the finest robes
but all I see
        is nakedness.