Soliloquy

With weathered leathered hands
and soft eyes
I build sandcastles in soliloquy
from wine and coffee stained blue prints.
Arches and circles that look back at you
and praise the day despite the distress.
The Magothy becomes a mistress at night
and a silver mirror of midsummer constellations.
It’s been mild on the East coast
barely any snow fall
just the sound a rusted tin
scraping morning glories from street cracks.
I imagine her body rolling from one side to the other
and always found weight on the bed
to be a comfort,
a silent friend that makes everything safe.
Lovers move as do the morning shadows;
I find myself trying to calculate
just how I ended up here
revolving in the barrel.
I was dared into desire’s deeds
and unafraid to up the anti.
I’m in a black parade
a fall of strangers,
as you rearrange your life
for reasons I don’t know.





















Soliloquy

With weathered leathered hands
and soft eyes
I build sandcastles in soliloquy
from wine and coffee stained blue prints.
Arches and circles that look back at you
and praise the day despite the distress.
The Magothy becomes a mirror at night
and a silver mirror of midsummer constellations.
It’s been mild on the East coast
barely any snow fall
just the sound a rusted tin
scraping morning glories from street cracks.
I imagine her body rolling from one side to the other
and always found weight on the bed
to be a comfort,
a silent friend that makes everything safe.
Lovers move as do the morning shadows;
I find myself trying to calculate
just how I ended up here
revolving in the barrel.
I was dared into desire’s deeds
and unafraid to up the anti.
I’m in a black parade
a fall of strangers,
as you rearrange your life
for reasons I don’t know.