isolate the modernities  carnations touch the wind, mocking them, like a cigarette in the abandoned sunlight, the entropy, monstering god-like shores fragmenting ends of the mind, traversing the watery rock for the sea, the mouth left behind from the cave, teeming with blood; the mountain defines the reflection in your eyes, where have you been?… Read More Modernities.


Of the April wind                         the distant perdu                         world, persists with                                     the evening sea shore conducts in sleep             the phase of light.                         There is no sun. There are no wings                                     in the abyss                                                 with black fruit,                                                             beautified in the sacrificial                                                             breath. Fall, fall.                                                 Amnesiac in the… Read More Amnesiac.

Forget it all.

We desire the worst In our fleeting dreams, Furiously pounding As the wind whistles In the twilit flowers, Trapped in an invisible pathway Before us; a silence waiting for us, As we are drawn together, Waiting, to be sure beneath the cold stones That we can forget it all. © 2020 All Rights Reserved.

Cold Sea.

A/N: Inspired partially by this song. After the cold sea Come home to me, A climb from the northern mountains and sea waves, This is where we prayed To come all away—to be brought the sun In faith from our footprints, arrived from broken stones, Without a word to say, made from dust to bones… Read More Cold Sea.


A feather lifts into the asters, Made known to the wind Teeming with a protestation Of what awaits to be quelled Eternally in this infinity, This sacrifice that slips from the dark, Settles into a river barely seen. Permeating from frosty caresses Sliding off the rock, And back into the cool, The bare of winter,… Read More Eternal.

Winter roads.

Winter roads As the air collapses Into grazed Reformed minds Darker than apparition Words alone. Disconnected, Wish I could’ve known What to say As silence Lowers on the dark wood boughs In humanity. © 2020 All Rights Reserved.

A Red Hyacinth.

We stopped in the primordial catacombs Waiting for the wrinkled aromas unto fresh Italy, And fog that had diverged the roots, laine with fallen roses; And I’ve heard the lonesome flow around the shore, Unrest among the madmen and women in the streets, And no more betwixt the gleaming roads, and yellow winters From before—“Let… Read More A Red Hyacinth.