A mythic notion
Waving like a flag
Upon your own Iwo Jima
Whilst my footing
Amidst the shrapnel
Left me
Unable to stand
Or even to face
Your two-pronged offensive
Beneath the surface
A heart
A spine
A voice
An echo


The groans of every mourning
Play like the devil’s voice
Over each new day since
Narrating random moments
Backmasked color commentary
Leaking hues and leaving black
Segments of the panorama
The linear record of my days
Most resembles Morse code now
A golden landscape accented
By the full color spectrum
Turned dark
A precursor to the fall
Like autumn is to winter
Like a run to a crawl
Eventually frozen
But given to a thaw
Still spring’s palette is spotted
At best a faded photo recovered
From ashes of a house burnt down
The edges of the image singed
A memory discolored and curled
Further distorted each day
By smoke rising from fires
That still burn around me
While Living Water stands by
Biding His time


What you are doing

Comes naturally to you

Flying onward

While winded

I stagger behind

Intermittently lurching


Faking steps forward

Occasionally even

Cracking a smile

Balancing a full circle

Turn with a black hole

A vacuum inevitable within

Where stuttered necessity

Leads me to disappear

And the call of each sigh

Unearths layers of remorse

Cannonball blows that

Echo in between

Moments of every day

New again

Unequivocally mine