Writhing in Agony

Not comatose yet—

Still struggling over
A comma, period.

Starlings

--for William Michaelian, again

Startling but not
Really alien, as in

Earthlings reaching,
Lifting them-

Selves up and out
Of the blue.

(This came up after reading William Michaelian's poem here.)

Asylum

The light goes without leaving

An inkling of where it has been,
Or where it is going,
Or of the darkling

Nest within.

Turning Point

Pinpointing the knife
Turning point-blank over

An unfulfilled bed

Full of wishful thinking, thinking
The ceiling’s all ready

Gone red.

On the Brink

He finds himself thinking:

One goes forward only when
Reversal brings him back again.