Poetry

Number One (8-10 X 10) I listened, but there was no sound only the melody, of muffled screams of lowing cows you did not hear. I would listen eternally, if I could, but noise slowly started to filter out of the room. I heard water running --the liquid glass stream --blending seamlessly with the rapid fits of sneezing. Only my heart, beating, would not peirce the air. Possibly it is just the constant hum of the insects, lulling me to peace with the whispered harmony, we could hear hitting the picnic table, truly.

Non-Alcoholic Intoxication (Published in "Virgil Moss Winter 2000") The intense flavor was sweet, but the aftertaste was terribly bitter. This consumption exposed me to the euphoria of a utopia It befriended all of my senses and now it has turned them all against one another! Oh! The agony of inner turmoil! The hot acid corrodes my interior amid consciousness, But yet, my body longs for more poison! The damaged memories of love are weak in this hell of hate! "The pain will go away with just one more kiss of his lips! Just one more sip!" my senses scream to me. My memories of him have not yet been put away. I have folded them gently, but they expose the gapping void in my heart that now enjoys its new existence. Why must happiness carry with it such an expensive pain? Why is the bittersweet poison so tempting to my soul? Why do I crave another sip of this non-alcoholic intoxication?

Obstacle How can I fear desire? Fear is a restraint that I choose to let go! But, yet I cling to it. Fear is a pest one is able to rid oneself of though no pesticide is effective but the chemical from within. So, why then do I not destroy it? It is fear of life without fear that I fear.

Why I am too afraid to love you. Quiet portraying calm hiding calamity practicing my inexplicable tranquility

Soul Crossing Looking through his pure, crystal blue eyes . . . It jumped in a moment of cloudiness, Climbing through the dark, deep, black door. Its fluid intensity stung my eyes at first, But gradually my senses adapted to the new prescence. He tricked me with a kiss, Stealing it back, But its unexpected release Took a piece of me with it.

Rectification (Published in "Virgil Moss Spring 2002") I’ve strung my bow, my arrow armed with a poem. He stands across from me in a prarie field, offering a transparent apology. He waves his white flag from the frontline, with open arms and bare chest. My eyes cower as my hand pulls back the lever. My muscles react instinctively, releasing the poison ammunition. It strikes him square in the heart, a mortal wound of wronged love. He screams in agony as the words feast on the fleshy rubbish of his heart. I stand cold, protected in my armor, hollow and alone.