through a looking glass
shatter cracked histories
seem familiar

Quiver- A Valentine

Like a pack of wolves
a pack of lies
swarms a gut pile
bile and flies
blankets the entrails
canine lust
candid carnage
lupus trust
and Cupid’s lost
an arrow.

She’ll howl
she’ll howl
like Pollack’s beast
simmering growls
relentless feasts
with a carnal drive
her desires must thrive
in deserts of
decorum
and decency.

But the arrow’s dulled
The shaft is bent
True no more
than true intent
to maim and plunder
from shadow lands...
and howl
and howl
for Cupid’s damned.

Diamond Sighs

Found it.
Your path of silence.
Again. Always.
Salient.

You sprinkled it thoughtfully
crumbs for the lost
diamonds, glittering
and audible.

They sigh...diamond sighs.
High pitched and thrilling
Sweet and sharp and brilliant.
Ancient, forever lasting
crystallized moments
of the purest angel time.

There was such a diamond.
A dawning realization,
not of compressed carbon
but of confessed innocence
and its lassitude
and its larceny
and its loss.

That diamond sighs for you.
I felt its razor sharp edge
for these many years...
in the background,
in the rain,
or in my dreams as now.
A haunting diamond sigh.

But it is not tragic,
in the way a diamond is not tragic.
It is a diamond.
It is
and ever will be.
And it sighs
sighs
sighs
for you.