What does one say to a sky
glowing in scarlet brilliance
at this early hour, blinking sleep
casting long shadows over dreams
half remembered, if all?
These vermilion pigments dance
among clouds, warming to the idea
of another day and whatever
unwraps the blues of normalcy,
I’ll not let this complexion slip
to ordinary, even as trees
envelop us in shade, days creep
shorter, and shadows — those
dark false realities that smooth
us out to remove a dimension
on chilly, fallow ground — lurk
behind but never catch us.
read more Colors at dawn
Can dreams be real? They exist
at night — in the dark
ineffable phantoms haunting us
like hazy ephemera disappearing
when we watch too long.
No — I think of other dreams,
the ivory hopes spring
for however long we have. We write
them on the clouds until
we dream up something higher.
Are dreams real before
they come true? Does it matter?
I prefer to spend energy
Finding time to nap.
read more If dreams
What do we say in the twilight
of a republic? Roman walls fell
into darkness as emperors fiddled
with extravagance, confident
eternity comes to those who wait.
We are a nation doomed
to repeat mistakes of dead
immortals — blinded by hindsight,
history befalls us.
read more Just another twilight