Now it is clear that he is
the object of his anger.
Never quite good enough
for attention or praise
from others or himself.
Enclosed in a small box
he peers through a tiny hole
at all that is marvelous
in the world, knowing he will
never be enough. Just beyond
what he can see, carefully
placed, are rows upon rows
of boxes whose captives stand
bewildered by the winter sky.
Month: February 2018
backtrack
i shut everything down during the storm,
never quite recovering anything. so i keep
digging, searching, following the trail back
through the wound, through the pain, through
questions that have no answers. revisit the place
somehow. retrace the steps of sorrow and excavate
that life from the past – reconnect – have mercy upon
the soul laboring beneath the burden of my expectations.
words and poetry
no one reads
free books
of poetry. not
even the gem
in the bargain
bin. discounted
words abound
in the realm
of free hate
speech. words
are spewed,
but poetry is
set to the music
of setting suns.
the rest
Embed from Getty Images
you are an iceberg
hidden by a night
without stars. yet
i search the dark
waters in the fog,
waiting to collide
and slowly sink
into the silent sea.
Awaiting the Images 