Snapped a Stained Glass

Staccatoimpressions bleating—
we’re talking: me and me.
I’m saying the snippets of my past could fit into a small envelope and
I'm saying my memory’s bad—but it’s not that, I know:
indifference has ruled my muscles, it has flexed the glass—
the fragile stains upon the sacred window
high above the Great Altar: a painted-white skull and a painted-red heart—
tradition tells me there is something inside
those two things.
at
poetry , , , , , , , , , , , ,

1 comment:

Anonymous said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
December 9, 2021 at 8:30 AM

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

More Poems

  • Boy, some people...
    On a Sunny day I will take you palms-hard against your temples— my fingernails like pain at your head. I will force your consciousness d...
  • Thank You
    I walk day to day and watch each sunrise glide from triumph to twilight. I walk beneath the new moon. I stop at each moment, not once...
  • The Lizard
    "Let it be," dad said when a lizard ran beneath a rock. I was out in the yard—yellow sun beating down, yellow grass dead as bones—...
  • Snapped a Stained Glass
    Staccatoimpressions bleating— we’re talking: me and me. I’m saying the snippets of my past could fit into a small envelope and I'm sa...
  • Look at yourself
    The ability to own yourself, your emotions—your essence—to see your wants and values, to see your blessed life and ever blessed breath reap ...
  • Music Journal: Hardcore
    As I sit here quarantined, I've been learning through YouTube how to record music. I'm particularly proud of this one. Thanks for li...
  • Lonely
    I walked a dusty path with short, brown grasses on either side, humming tuned to myself to shade me from my loneliness.
  • Tangled Tango
    To drop all perceptions  mind and body  and soul  has attached itself to-- to dare to be open, to be challenged. Here:  to let strange hands...
  • In the Silence of Pizza Eating
    In the silence of pizza eating and tv watching with her out in the living room dim lights and soft glow and black table loaded with beer...
  • On the bank of a river April 2021
    It was a long, dry winter. It rained a few times. Two days I slept in full pajamas. One week in January I got a sunburn —the pandemic, too. ...