Category Archives: conceptual

Is this too a dream?

I dream so well, so deep,
sometimes I can’t tell the dreaming
from the living. The rooms are both blue.

Have you ever thought you awoke, only to
find you were still dreaming? The clocks
on the wall melt like Dali.

When you say I Love You, the words seem
slow. If I reach out to touch you, will you
still be there, will you still be?

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Filed under conceptual, dream, love, Uncategorized

Backbones unfurled

In the east we paint
rebelliously, our backbones
Unfurled. Trains, unaware
Hum low tones “I’m here,
I’m here.”


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Filed under Baltimore, conceptual, Uncategorized, work

i am buried

Like a king confined
by a future of shackles, i sit in my
big chair and listen, and grieve.

i am burying my brother.
i am burying my child. it matters not,
as i think only of me.

light fades, tightens its grip.
time is my best friend
who accepts such lonely things.

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Filed under conceptual, dead, death, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

A burning sky dies over me

a burning sky dies over me,
sighs over me, extinguishes
like a lit match
blown softly unconscious.
fingers flaming pass out
into wispy smoke, clouds that once burned
hot slowly rust,

i watch them turn pyroclastic dark,

they turn against me –
an encroaching cloak of emptiness. i watch this death
a hungry voyeur. i listen though
nothing, nothing remains
save a sliver of a moon croaking awake, and black silhouettes
of trees and city rowhome skeletons whispering,
you always leave, you always do
but the gold is worth it for one brief hour,
that one small time our eyes got big
and drank colors possible only in dreams.


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Filed under Baltimore, conceptual, death, fall, night, poem, poetry, seasons

I Buried My Brother

I buried my brother. And now,
the color of the sky has faded and with it
Time has donned a mystical velvet robe. He
wings me about the room like a mad scientist
whose hands are tied with potions and promises;
we were supposed to be
in a future I created full of greenery
and gold light. We were to be tomorrows and
tomorrows long from now.

His wand swirls round, stirring stars to wake. Another
day is over, and so ends this illusion.
I bury my head in my hands
and cry into soft fabric folds of his gentle gown.

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Filed under conceptual, dead, death, poem, poetry

Proclaimer and Vision

i exist differently. i am

the breath between

breaths, the gap. a golden hue

between day and night, your

pause between no and yes, i am

a living rift.

i see a girl at a crowded deck party.

she says “look, that girl is all alone” and

i am both

proclaimer and vision.

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Filed under conceptual, poet, poetry, stream of consciousness, writers

Kiss My Hip Bones

Kiss my hip bones if
you want to know me.
Stubborn mouth, a lack
of venture grounds you.

Hip bones are grave lovers.
If you kiss mine, you’ll
taste certain ash and stars
promised again, so soon.


Filed under conceptual, death, philosophy, poem, poetry, Uncategorized