The missing bulb

Of all the words in infinity

there is but one that’s just right

Like reaching into the darkened skies

to pluck a star so bright

I pull it down and plug it in

to complete the string

You are the exacting gem I want

amongst the everything


Published in: on November 30, 2011 at 11:20 pm  Comments (1)  
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in perfect sync

with the quiver

of my cells

every pluck

my heart swells

guitars, harps,

ukes, violins

banjos, cellos,


they all sing

with their entrancing strings

matching the pulse in me



Published in: on November 25, 2011 at 10:24 pm  Comments (2)  
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Fair-weather Friend

My joy is gone
with the sun
but was that me at all?
My woeful winter
could be my center
My fair-weather friend,
leads me on.
All the fancies and the foils
those sweltering nights encourage
leave me when frost bites hard.
The lump that’s left
is the real me, I guess
That boisterous party girl
is a facade 
built by summer’s
glimmer-prismic holographs.
She cares not 
about the worries
in my frigid core,
that fair-weather friend,
damned doppelganger.
Reports say she’s South,
basking in radiance
while I am here 
crawling through fog 
and puddles
of quiet sorrow.
I know she returns
because I give her substance,
and I tolerate her
so I can be included
in the follies of
unfledged communes.
 So pathetic and dismal am I
that half of me leaves
for half of the year.
Published in: on November 24, 2011 at 11:12 pm  Leave a Comment  
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