They Sing of Us

Faint, gentle,

the distant singing;

I hear them every morning

as the first wind blows,

carrying their voices

to my sluggish ears,

rousing me from dreams,

calling to my heart

with a careful legato,

to the tune of your name. 

I wake to greet another day

in a world made beautiful

by your presence. 

As you turn

to open your eyes,

I touch your face

through the ray of sunlight

sneaking into your window 

while their voices soar

to a grand crescendo

as they sing of us,

and slowly

glide to a low hum

to let us know

the world is alright;

the world is brand new. 

They Sing of Us

February 2, 2022

When Night Stole Daybreak

Rain washed paradise

of its fiction;

the pink pigments in the sand, 

the figments in the island’s

mirage-like glass walls

where dance the silhouettes 

of movie stars

off a black-and-white picture,

melting away

with the sporadic heat

of the sun.

Where for but split seconds come

the spark of daylight, 

dimmed away

each time the winds blow. 

There it settled 

above me

as truth did

in the warm afternoon glow;

a set of pearls


from the other side

of my window—

only my soul could reach. 

For but one morning,

it was mine;

I owned paradise

before the squall poured

and night stole


When Night Stole Daybreak

October 12, 2021

A Wrong-ness in the Waning Moon

There’s a wrong-ness in the air

that would neither settle

nor move along.

It brought vague questions

and cold sweats that tingle

my feet;

the sky is pale

and the dog is howling;

the wrong-ness,

artless and raw.

A waning moon showed. 

It is now dark out.

Fangs in the sky

start to dance,

gnawing at my gut. 

The hour on the clock

is wrong.

So was the color of my sweat

that I have just washed

down the drain. 

The only thing right

is the certainty 

that this wrongness exists.

But I must not come find

where it rests

for I have gone that way before. 

And the only end

I would meet

on that path

is more wrongness.

Yet it rattles my bones,

like they’re wind chimes

out in an approaching storm. 

A Wrong-ness in the Waning Moon

March 8, 2021

Start the Coffee

Start the coffee,

Let the morning brew

As the carafe collects

Every hot drop

Of thought in your mind;

Shape it into a cup

Of comfort

That there is yet another day

To be slurped

While it’s warm. 

Taste the ground

From which the tree of its 

Beans came;

You decide

How to play the game. 

Draw the curtains;

There’s no longer a reason

To hide. 

Time moves

In your favor;

This is the hour

To take back the stolen years.

You’ve clocked out the darkness

In your sleep;

Wake up from the dream. 

The rays on your window

Say hello,

You’ve stepped out

Of the shadow

And into tomorrow. 

Wash your face of the stains

Of tears

And your mouth of the bitter taste

Of loss;

There is sweetness

To be found

In a fresh pot. 

Smell the steam of hope,

Let it boil away the failures

Of yesterday;

You will hear

The music of the roaring brew

As it extracts every truth

If you would just

Start the coffee. 

Start the Coffee

February 8, 2021

Tell Me of Rainbows and Second Chances

Tell me again 

How there’ll be a thousand

More sunrises

For I forget what it’s like

To bathe in their rays. 

Remind of the colors 

Of rainbows

That I can no longer name

For I have lost their shape, their tinctures

In my mind;

How there’ll be another flame

In the heart that’s been extinguished,

How it will burst again

With fancies and butterflies

And warmth. 

Show me a preview

Of a story

Where lovers keep their promises

And vagrants find their way;

Where the broken-hearted

Feel another’s kiss,

Where the lonely find company. 

Tell me of a future

Where the fallen seize

A second chance. 

Read me the fortune

Of the ill-fated

In which their stars align. 

Tell me again

That the world is kind. 

Tell Me of Rainbows and Second Chances

January 11, 2021