Day: July 21, 2026

Cleansed with Fire

Roses whisper about me.

Shrubs are two faced.

My eyes are berries that the hungry
Can pick.

In my hands,

the shadow of an unearned stigmata.

Hope for the eternal bliss of purposeful suffering.

Blank space is a conduit for meaning.

I fill the page with myself,
My ruby blood shimmering with neon green viruses

That unzip my best idea
Like a double helix.

The blue balloon was not my only idea –

Covering in the caverns of my 8th birthday.

Nature always takes its due

Dew

Do nothing as the river rises.

We already know next time

we will be cleansed with fire.

A Tune I May Never Hear

Sanctity knows us by our wounds,
Which fester in the spirit.
Fear punctuated with regret.
Daily I think of rain, and Death runs his finger along the S of my spine,
Asking about the weather in my
Innermost chambers of spicy thought.
My faults are electric blue,
Grinding on the dim dance floor of mortality,
Making bets on every scratch ticket.
Over the hills,
Just beyond suburbia and
Down a country mile from rural,
Is God
Playing his violin in a tune I may never hear.

I wasn’t ready to publish this poem, but my google docs is acting up, and I may as well publish it while i still have it in my clipboard.