A Modest Refusal

Tired of breathing. What an unceasing bother, That I learned to do, proper, From the day I was born. That first breath, I realize, May have galvanized My eyes Onto their maiden voyage of cries. Sick of breathing by now. I’ve done it enough already, Haven’t I? Jesus Christ, Millions stacked on millions Of times....

How Much is that Soul in the Window?

I don’t have a soul anymore. Not sure where it has flown. I didn’t know it was there before But now I’m sure it’s gone. Maybe I dropped it in the parking lot Or it hid between the pages of a book. Maybe it slipped through a rip In the purplish thin spot. Hopefully it...

Hush

A fire dances in spite of somber darkness A fetus thrives in the cramped accommodations of the womb The terminally ill continue to respire The madman's heart beats though a tempest is between his ears Will a foreteller hush even if he knows the future?