A Dirge Adrift

beautiful fractals float

atop the rotting wood—

wind-stains adrift

slanted dreams

a felony of

groves barren and forgotten

are those moments past a reapers swing

gorgeous surrender

tempt me naught

for the greyest cloaks of strangeness

guide the shadows now

to where the weathered stones denote location

to where fragments bathe in muddied earth

it’s message, is one of certainty

providing clarity through dates and name,

leaving but the questions mankind’s wrestled all his days

Forlorn and Facing Reconfiguration

I withdrew my efforts months before months before

I am blank canvas, abandoned like the empty mine—still 

possessing gold; seemingly, knowledge only I care to know

dust settles and design forms an abstractive patterning—yet, all assurances I can now provide are but trivial, unintentional; only residue, coincidentally shed upon, what once was the bark of pine

I rescinded perseverance, long before long seemed forever far

I am the rusted chain; I am the captive’s scar—so antiquated, a reminder of a past so effortlessly shunned away

dampness stirs alive the cloth—a cloth cares not for futures, of consequence or repercussion; it only does what you ask it to, be that wiping fresh a dirtied slate or offering moisture to an arid face.

I disassembled my entirety, part before piece before part and piece

I am mechanical; calculative—dividing out the old and worn, a sum of parts infused as new, fully aware, some slivers can never be removed.

  

I Killed Orpheus

It’s not my fault

I’ve heard from others that your words speak

I’ve been informed your music addicts the soul

Yet, still, I cannot hear or feel

An extraneous birth I’ve bled

A foreign substance beneath the tongue

Subcutaneous- bludgeoned within

Orpheus, did you find your bride?

I’m sorry, from my hands your heart did stop

My mind is an athenaeum

Comprehensive, vast

Hollowed are my thoughts of you

For each hand etched syllabic impression-

For the beautification flowering from your song-

Circumvent me- an incomplete wager yet anted toward

Vacuous void, a void to see

I’ve reserved a space- a lee- to rest your stoned-in-tomb