A pair of wire-rimmed glasses folded upon a shelf

Sinning without you
   failed conspiracies
  loneliness and regret
 commingling and  yet
kept  separate
by the most thin
impervious membranes
these   barriers
  the air between us
  electroplated   into shields
 shining   over  the course
of  an evening
the bright nickel disc
of the moon
  the solitary mirror
between us a reminder
 of the condom that success
fully performs its function
 then    discarded
from the car to  a gutter
 mirrors what happened
to    our   still crowning star
 doing well  today
   must  be    futile
without you    here
with  the dragon
smiling back at  us
 through its bandages 
 

Why a Florist is Permitted Freedom

A flower is needed in the execution hall
rang out the announcement as a field
of flora in the rain slowly pulled back
below ground simultaneously as if attached
to a gigantic loom in a chamber beneath
in order to weave strange garments made
with braided dandelion stems and star-
anise buttons adorned with acorn caps.
Not a gymnosperm dared to step up. 

History of a Star

A spinning node of power so immense
galactic supernovae remain normal events
while volcanic oceans of molten rock explode
and falling embers in a downpour corrode
systematically zooming in or out of the picture
from inside the fiery nucleus of an atom
to the combustion of a star, the universe
unfolds in a mirrored whipping chain
reaction spiraling in orderly control
from far beyond our best capacity to
even guess. It is enough that we recognize
it and devote ourselves to the cultivation
of the protection of its mystery.

Entry In The Hyperverse

One single leaf
concealed among
the spread pages
of its family
somehow avoids
 each of our
placid stares
as we stroll by
to our oblique
destinations
(the question
remains unasked
to this day by
a populace too
busy to know
what's real)
toward the secret 
(there is no leaf) 
 lost  again when
 the last finger
nail latch gets lifted
from the lock on
our root cellar
door down here
in this dark quiet
 musty realm
the light of day
never once licks
but instead must
visit in the form
of a hidden egg
cracked into song

Where Flowers Are Taking You

All one really needs to find out the difference between their original conception of what tomorrow would be and their current understanding of what yesterday was seems to be the allowance of their own personality with all its faults and modifications so that an honest assessment can be made of the real value one represents to one's self insofar as the present situation demands the general condition of their existence to be and whether or not it carries with it the strange divided penalty of only remembering the most interesting episodes after waking up from a temporary malady where microseizures have cast a static network of almost subordinate control over every aspect of their waking consciousness to the point when they finally fall to sleep in their beds it never happens at an hour when they could best manage the continuation of total rest due to the constant chitterings emanating from under the crack of the closet door allowing a ghostly green light faintly roiling with smoke and dust penetrating the floorboards of their bedroom to creak and groan until feeling the commotion shiver the termite powder from the ceiling out of the slightest cracks with a pulverized silt comprised of every notebook and article of clothing ever worn in the family going so far back as to penetrate the remotest conduits of antiquity through the severest Scottish keeps isolated on the dotted lakes each one a solitary tower of confinement for an individual convict sentenced to calcify into another skeleton embedded within its own bricked in tomb which remains solely as a reminder to us all that we better watch out for what we may inherit because even the greatest of ordinances may amount to a paltry sum in the receding reflections cancelled out within the eyes of an orphaned child standing by the side of the road holding out a dying flower.