Death
my blood in the sink-
I should be panicking but
I can’t feel the pain
–
tendrils of fog-
undisturbed by the hooves
of a pale horse
my blood in the sink-
I should be panicking but
I can’t feel the pain
–
tendrils of fog-
undisturbed by the hooves
of a pale horse
a forest of ghosts-
cadavers stand sentinel
bleaching in the sun
–
echoes –
sunlight on
the forest floor
sitting on the train
I look across the aisle and
see you as you were
–
hot city streets-
a stranger wears
my memories
a smiling buddha
round belly worn smooth by
hands of thousands
–
pagoda doors-
stone steps cut
in the hillside
dark attic corners
within an old cardboard box
dusty memories
–
summer boardwalk-
sepia toned
memories
I am but a leaf
countless among the masses
on the tree of life
–
approaching autumn-
spring leaves
begin to fall
a rain-soaked highway-
the skeletal hand of fate
cuts another thread
–
trapped in amber-
mountains are as
grains of sand
a thousand lifetimes
wasted following the path
of least resistance
–
spring dawn-
first sunrise
seen again
a table for one-
looking for some privacy
and a little peace
–
bryant park-
a blanket
dewy grass
a sidewalk bistro-
over my coffee judging
everyone I see
–
al fresco-
sipping coffee
headphones on