My Father’s Voice

Lead me through the maze of tangents, avoiding aftermaths disguised as sunsets

Where balcony views shine truths about empty chimes

And lessons are found through sunlight piercing through broken doors

Collections of anonymous indifference remains at the side of the road

My father’s voice linger in the wind, beckoning

The smell of fields graze my soul, reminding me I’m not far from home

Tremor’s Crescendo

Needles scribble incoherent scripts

As tremor’s vibrations lift the baton

An orchestration begins

A conduction of surges play

Silent of sound, but not of affect

Crescendos reach their peak

Eventually intensities subside

Ending adrift in a sea of calm

Sanctuary’s Uneven Road

Ashen skies hide sunrise’s thorns, shallow waters fill my lungs

Muted lights through rice paper screen doors, gazing at the truth

Peeled wallpaper hangs off tired walls, waiting to be held then tugged to the floor 

Silent crumpled photos, tangled stories untold, knotted at both ends

Tides of anguish kept at bay, sanctuary’s uneven road, paved with discarded voices


Dawn’s arrival, deep breaths, inhaled tattoos beneath the skin

Not tomorrow nor the next, a knock at my door, a reminder someday will come

A collection of darkness, forever follows, filling each footprint, stride for stride

Running, stopping, turning, hiding – impossible to evade

I stop, I turn, I wait – a reunion, an embrace, a farewell until we meet again

Asking for a Sign

Refuge does not imply running into dark tunnels

Swimming in knotted ropes, I can’t go back

To sun sets that fall below horizons’ sharpened edge

Just arm’s length away, I stretch

A touch, drops fall from fingertips, creating shallow frantic puddles

I float, waiting for a sign, hoping someone will hear

Feathered Imprints

Long arms reach out, grasping at air

I am waiting, not knowing for what

Standing in the open, I look down and see my shadow has disappeared 

A sigh escapes, a flock of birds take flight where my breath left off

Fading small dots in the distance, they leave

Feathered imprints fall in their wake

And I’m left here wondering what is next, if anything at all