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Elohim
A shard of the Holy Ghost / with a fragment of the Father / along with a dusting of the Son, / to extract the impurities, / for flux.
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Waiting for the End
And here I stand Open hand The heavens bleed on my palm I wait The burn I sweat Life verified by this heat My mind seared with opiate memories I pace Embittered, waiting for death Stalling till my last breath Epicurean termination, my fingertips tingle The void nears I halt Place my hat on the wicker chair Do you have a dime to spare One last cup of coffee is all my care Let the ashen sip singe my tongue…
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Chasing Snow
Caught with fingertips Into droplets, These streaking diamonds Recount memories That can never be reclaimed. The banks besmear In dirt and dust, Render to mud What the past Recalls pristine, Maybe even divine, In its blinding sheen. I run from that which Chills with a remembering warmth. Now settling into a world Mired with discomfort But one I sought to claim At this zenith I know I shall prevail. Let this snow part In mystical ways On these slanted hills…
