Metamorphosis, Hombre, As in Cicada

Si, still under

Neath

Only a shell

Of it

Self, nada.





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A Sentence As Curious As My Ten-Month-Old Granddaughter's Look

I have no way of knowing 
But it seems every time 

 
You look to touch my face,
Your little body’s trying 

 
Hard to flesh out what 
I hope you remember well after 

 
This bag of bones has gone its way. 

Crestfallen

no matter how sapped

still the solitary 
pine holds

its breath hoping 
for a fair wind

to take that breath away. 

KO'd

Big shot lightweight, that dark empty

Corner you thought you’d never 
Box yourself into, now riddled 

With cobwebs spangled 
With shooting

Stars. 

Tormented Soul

Some days you get up wanting 
So much to give all the love you have 
To the first person you meet 
Who tells you have a good day; 
Most other times you just wish 
Every last one of them would go away.