Jazzman1989

Some people are comets; others just want to share the infinite prairie navigating undivulged mysteries; and on the rare chance two comets meet in the rock-strewn vacuum, the cobalt comas crochet their whistling tails into Celtic knots.

Oh brother, "he-haw," Who makes a house out of straw? Certainly you're raw From breaking mother's law; "he-haw...he-haw" I saw his paw. Oh brother, in the hicks, I will not pick up those sticks. Didn't mother say to not pick A house made out of sticks? You think you're slick, But see this nick? He gave it only a flick. So don't be sick, Just light the wick - Say, "bye, bye sticks!" Oh brothers, do not bother, For I am not like father. You built those homes, despite mother, And would build another Before I discover You were smothered By your very own covers. So go back home And leave me alone. My house, lone, Was bri

I sat on father's shoulders, Beneath starless skies; Punched in stomach sideways, Prompted eyes up high. "Father, gardens don't bloom at night, Do they?"                     "Yes, my dear, they do." I watched the corollas cascading Down on top of you. Embers coruscate in dolorous skies - "Cherish, darling; Cinders dwarf time."

My eyes are white in metaphor- All color, faded from the iris. Like Odin, I traded sight for wisdom, And left blind in life. Would you share my wisdom If I showed you my eyes? Or would you run away When you realized Your favorite feature faded?

My friend asked me the other day, "What percentage of your books, Have you actually read?" I never noticed, But, half (maybe…?) Books no longer reside on shelves. They line walls in stacks. In piles.             In  Awkward      Mounds       Of Leather And    Paper And discarded    Notes - Crumpled balls Scattered around the trash can. I have so many books That I wonder if there is an exit. I constantly add books Since you left. I guess, I just want you to visit The bookstore with no doors.

Snack time. I followed gold-plated jackets - Hansel retracing steps to blue backpack, while the Witch tarried. Hansel returned; stomach growling, fist clinched shut for the Witch to pry open; snatching the treasure with eyes like crow's feathers before collecting the remaining trail to cubbies. Two woodsmen search backpacks. One questions, one observes. I yank on pantlegs - "What is this?" Snatching the treasure with eyes like fog creeping in the morning dawn; One questions, one answers. Friend escorted out. He could not return, for Hansel picked up his trail. Tears dot blue craft paper. I draw a night scene w

A dog went to the pound today And put inside a cage. With ears erect and lollèd tongue He stands against the cage. His tail a metronome with no time, He sings a melancholy opera To the one that forgot him Like city-dwellers forget the stare of a star On lamp lit streets. He lays in corners, Head on paws with forlorn eyes; His nose twitching- Constantly, searching for her, But she'll never come. His new home is the pound: A lost and found for animals. Forgotten, unwanted, unloved, He waits for the one. But there is none; In a day, know that he'll be gone.