Pour

Take the lamp,
in the middle of the night,
over to where
you’ll need the light.

Make sure no one can see
you cause the destruction
that will surely occur
the second the steel begins to twist.

Piercing cries from those who walk above
the frightening waters below
as the gasoline begins to
befriend the oxygen.

Leave the scene of perhaps
the greatest downfall
of solid steel ever seen,
as you burn this bridge.

Save

From here, I am underneath
the scene of all
that went very wrong
the last week of December.

Selfish tendencies
can never end
the shallow view.
Adjust the negative.

I’m not one
to plan out
the inevitable
demise.

Dead leaves
fall from trees
in the saddest
way.

Discrete

I will look
through the pinhole
that you’ve left open
in order to see.

To see myself
through your eyes,
from the other side,
is reality in its harshest form.
Fill the empty Tetris gap
to watch the entire puzzle clear,
line by line,
like a falling building.
But no deed was shallow,
yet the hole stays hollow.
I shine less under bright lights,
but I’m a tough act to follow.

Junior

Dirt roads
lead to hollow trees
that dissipate
when stared at.

Thunderous voices
always strike the fastest.

When will you
begin to see
that rocks and stones
were beneath our feet?

The Big Top

Sights and sounds
take you around
to a wondrous encampment
of spinning lights and fireflies.

Ticket stubs
and ringing bells.
Balls to throw
at jugs of milk
often end
in empty-handed promises
or thinking there’s still hope.
“Next time,” you believe.

But one day you’ll find
a way out
of the house of mirrors
and be on your way home.