10
clotted or crooned the heart turns physical in older age
when younger it is but a metaphor for song rising inside believing somewhere someone other than self can bear one's wounds touching the braille of other fingers as guests linger in our abode like a group of graveyard monuments wrapped in flowers full of echoes the earth covering every cloud as some beg for spare change your fingers like knotted sticks forced in the pocket heartbreak is a nest of squalling in the wake of a world battered in life forgiving a song never a mentor just minor chords songbirds shy in their refusal to sing the raw world is hard to love touched up with sentiment we are all painting an unknown picture invisible waves books burned to ash or given away forgive me for merely sitting decomposing exponentially on your tragically picturesque front porch
My 3rd poetry collection, Grief Suite, is forthcoming from CustomWords. My other poetry collections are The Book I Never Read and Letter From The Lawn. My poems have been published in numerous print and online journals including New American Writing, APR, Otoliths, Shampoo and diode.
