Monday, May 25, 2015


           Steps away
         from the bridge
          the men tarry

    Beneath crumbling stone
            blue deep
      as immutable sky

          They capsize
     like corrupted columns
           in damp grass

          Heads lost in
        the collation of
       breath and water.


I smuggle thought
from shores of fear
and covet distance
to slight what's near.

Bread and wine
have no taste,
no breath of life,
no blood, no grace.

Thursday, May 07, 2015

Rissa Rendered

Hair shortly cropped
like felled poppies
gently lopped.

Long lashes trail
ripe fruit mashed
to bitter gel.

The Mistral takes
her breath.