Destiny

To you, I devote Destiny. I did so when you died, but today, on paper. From you, I draw strength.
It is never too late to say goodbye, though you should know you never left.
My uncle, I miss you dearly. We all do.

What Heart Knows

What Heart asks for. Thread for the needle. Words for the water. Meat for the bone. The heart asks for substantial blood. The heart asks quietly, because no heart wants to hear itself. The heart is a folding explosion. The heart is denied its attachments, because the heart might get pulled from it's station. The heart is a stranger to the ribs who cage it. The heart has a language that rhymes every word and every breath. The heart is the dread under the breast. The heart is tenderly smiling and violently thrusting. The heart is too big for the soul. The heart never leaves. The heart wants to stop. The heart beats itself to death.

Sweet Piece of Mind

I have a tyrant's hunger
for well-defined shapes.
easily described, analyzed;
more of the hard-to-hold,
"feel with your eyes" types.
I search in my living space
for currency to coin, little
tempered adages to give;
my charity to you, a gift
of words filled with vacant
glass, a smack of void from
my deleterious hands.
wait

Transatlanticism

field

Darling, you challenge me to forget
Intrusive thoughts of slight are
All I've been trying to wring.
They're solid in this space, square,
So elegantly sharp on every side,
and they fit perfectly together,
Even if they are an infidelity
on this plane of states.
I recur through my questions on how
I could walk among these cracked old steps
After all these years, my direction is the same.
But I must remark on my masochism...
These reminiscences bring me to depth.
My illusions make me happy,
And happy is nothing without complaint.