Breakfast

When I face

These pancakes,

Eyes search

For ways to

Dream.

 

Sanctity in

Whipped topping,

Butter running off

In divergent rivers.

 

Swirling eddies

Feeding heat,

Slumber awaiting

Questing organs.

 

Your surprise at

What feeling

Hits you,

Quieted of the

Mechanical noise

Computers drive into

Your static skull…

 

 

Crossing Over

As moments enliven,

You cross over to

My depths.

 

Folded in sacramental

Mystery,

Judged not by racing

Clocks blowing off steam…

 

Your vision ropes my

Starless advance,

Woods shaded,

Fallen spark.

 

Intrepid wisdom

Of paths

Intercepted,

Traces beamed

To completeness.

A storm you

Must wander along,

Taken to an

Icy page coursing

Its own poetic tour…

 

Hurt- Rebel Rose Anthology

Hurt in

A Sunday melting to

Monday gloom.

 

Your absent

Face,

Imprinted to

Incarnate visions

Stained upon the

Universe’s glowing

Pulses.

 

Dreaded

Leaving,

A grieving itch along the

Neck,

Record pricks to

Shifting sentiments.

 

Romantics on a

Freeze,

Mummified

Follicles

Bred

Along

A song’s cessation.

 

Naked notes

Uttered,

Too late in the

Lover’s entry,

Fires cooled

Within a music

Taken to,

Shadow sweeps

Along quiet beds

Going toward solemn cracks,

Wizened to the darkness

Losing its visage once again…