Tuesday, January 29, 2013




Take me into the tunnels below
the manholes and oak roots,
where lights no longer echo
and noise falls mute.

There I'll find my voice of reason
amidst cackling pipes
and graffiti of treason -
signs of a once-lived life.

Where darkness becomes a friend
and no longer alien.
Within these walls I mend
myself beneath the subterranean.


photo: Lib Hedgepath

click clock staccato of rain drops
against her window pane
that frames a charred horizon
stained with lofty clouds.

the door creeps open with a creak,
pouring in a draft that trips the light
into a shadowed promenade against the walls,
as the moon of her lust and doffed desire
waxes through the threshold.

his bare feet shuffle to the hearth
and stop at the edge of heat,
he sits next to her and tells her
"Please tame this fire."