borderline
the status phone
an empty breath
with static hiss

linger like a winter kiss

this hunger wander
tracks across abandoned square
beneath the black night
splenduor of autumnal night

within the bag of tricks
metallic hitch
the pinch bite drips

in candle dwell
the I Phone candy euphoria
ebb
the land of the forsaken
sought
beneath the solitary flares
and tanks against the
fenceline haunts

one in the chamber

..

He wanted some friends round for dinner
Nothing seemed stranger or simpler
I agree, unaware
Of the quaint pair
Who were coming

A handsome black man,
an Intelligent, woman
Both part of his work
No agenda lurked
For their coming

What he didn't let on
Was what he had done
with the man and also the other
who both were his lovers
That were coming

Its saturday, its saturday
and minus ten degrees,
the trees stand frozen statues
as there isn't any breeze,
the coldness of the blue
spreads its mood of darkened gloom,
a contrast to the stillness
of the warm air in the room;
the bird that waits on top
of that twiggy weeping tree,
a willow hoping for the sun
the wish of well nigh everyone,
I put away my pillow once again,
to meet this winter's morning without sun,
as I chew my breakfast, finish this poem.

I walked in a foreign land
Where our fruit had fallen
There in rows were crosses
Did our fruit's seed grow these

I dreamt that our fruit,
Had both arms and legs
These had only one leg
Were they from our seed

Did we sow these seeds
Were they cloned or bred true
A near copy of me and you
Why did they reproduce so.

This land is not their home
In this place they have grown
From the loins of us so far away
As a monument of their time..