SAVANT

Loss has no end, it binds to our connection. We don’t speak of it — We don’t even try.

Photo by Fabrizio Verrecchia on Unsplash

DAY

A pale and pallid breeze
on a clear-sunned March day
only one lone tree
petalled me away.

Don’t ya find time
so-enchantingly betrays:
ya?

Me in flight
eerie is the night
cat’s green eyes
shine up at me
eyes disguise
like fire-flies
a spider’s surprise –
lead bullets for my eyes –

‘my friend is in his grave,
you know’,
we reap as we sow
you know.

I know.

NIGHT

Lurking in the shadows — on this groggy
gas lit night welcome he,
who followed so many
to their lingering deaths, in this age of the machine,
old father time sts alone, bereft of sight
yet sees the tender white crosses-row-on-row,
rising on a whirlwind, on a night of swirling snow,
he hears the creaking branches, catches a whiff
of lying Lady Fortune a-floating on the…