Survivor's Guilt

Meaningless streams of water

Writhe like living ropes

Made of glass (how very strange!)

Across the gray linoleum tiles.

The light fades in this room

To match the captured

Ancient light in photographs.

Time itself must be confused by this.

Two tears and some dominoes fell:

The aborted start

Of an imagined design...

A line that would never be finished.

Meaningless streams of water...

(Am I not human?)

Pulsing through vein and vessel...

And we all know humans die like flies.

Blue Silk Songs

Silk is a voice

With blue undertones.

Music is a choice

For all the left-alones:

All the orphaned babies

The girls with no close friends

The dogs with chronic rabies

Men on roads with no ends.

A rose is a thorn

With alluring bait set;

The same disguise worn

By snakes out to get

The lost little children

And the souls who weep

Over bones that were killed when

The mountains were still steep.

Blue is a poem.

And Blue is a song

And a color to show 'em

Where they went wrong.