Poetry
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Appendix
Coven of Cats
My local coven of black cats.
Every night you gather en masse.
Shadowy silhouettes like pointed hats.
You flick your tails
and behind featureless masks,
Mew out hexes so matter of fact.
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Storm
Wake up and smell the rain
Thick sheets that swallow all sound.
Gaze upon the thunder that surrounds
Crackling with power, and
Feel the bolts when they strike the ground
Bared like fangs, burning the night
As they flicker and fight.
Drench yourself in the calm before it slips away
Serenity comes, but it does not stay.
Savor the gusts that buffet your path
Hold tight and ride the zephyr out of the past.
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3:45
In my room it's always three forty five
I can laugh or cry
but the seconds never creep by
And the face stares me down
perched up by the door.
Frozen in place
Behind a glass plate.
I can change the batteries
Twist the gears and wind.
Subject it to the shame
And triumphs of my life.
Unchanged, all the same
The hands sit still.
And day after day
Four o'clock? Quarter till.
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Dunes so Tall
Do you see dunes so tall
Bit by bit
They fall apart
The wind it howls
Screams at them
'Bout all their faults
Yet they stand and remain
When one shelf shatters
It moves on
In the slopes between
Each mound of sand
In constant flux
Never as tall as yesterday
But each grain lost will find its place
Support a sister in some other way
Peppered in plants
Giving little animals shade
Beneath blue skies on cloudless days
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Faith
If I let go of this cloth now.
They will say,
"He never really believed in the first place."
Ignore how it is stained by my palms.
Drenched in the blood from my finger tips.
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