She is not a Rose


Neither rose

Petal or bud

Can be

As she –

The woman

Of the water

Who levels

Out the unbearable

Sound

With a

Tranquil moment

 

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In Bones We Trust


In this ancient

Ruin we trust

In this relic

Of an age not

Ours –

Where shining men

Hid behind doors

And ruled

Against

Martyrs

Who could not

Argue

Or take flight

Against

Hamlet’s plight

—-

The age is past,

But the seeping

Sinister spirit

Continues

To fester

To the bone.

Shade Shelters Shave


Shade shelters shade –

The poor man’s grave –

Only shadow and sapling

Stay.

Marbles markers mark –

Luxe lives of moneyed men;

Who died surrounded and alone.

Time turns –

Headstone highlights

To dirtied marble

Masked with mud.

Sapling to keeper –

Eternal respite

For the rootless

Rolling stone…