Best Bleached Poems

Written in The Stars 

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Two hearts bleached by the sun
        A poem's - fallen wish
   ...

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This is not a time for us
Facing these weeks of hospital walls
My knight now jousts an invisible foe
Shorn of hair, yet still he wears
Tubes of...

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In a moment of juvenile jealousy 
he envies his red rival

with its intimate and greedy embrace of her angels’ share
of honey and vanilla spice
as wet...

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A straw man stood fixed upon timber firm, 
gazing at Autumn's gilded, moonlit prize.
He, the king of Earth and the winding worm,
she, the pale darling...

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Winter frost on willow trees  
     Weeping tears of snow.  
Halos 'round the opal moon,
    ...

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A Psychedelic Whistle Plays a Rhythm into the Darkness

Entering the dark side of a moonbeam on this evil lens of life,
A gruesome old man recreates...

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He just appeared to me, like wispily curling 
Chimney smoke, 
One grim and early morning in the very midst of 
Decembers briefest days, on the...

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In the visiting room evening's ebony is shellacking everything.
He sits across from me at the sable-shaded table, in shades,
pours black coffee pungent as the Gauloises...

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Somethings are best 
said through blank
scriptures in sheer 
silence, but pulling the 
violin strings of
a poet strumming
to personify pain, 
with tempests of 
torment rushing 
through...

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Entering the dark side of a moonbeam on this evil lens of life,
A gruesome old man recreates a murder time and time again, 
As the...

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Let me tell you the story of Miss Jenny Prime,
who spent all of her days making everything rhyme.
It was thought she’d outgrow this strange childhood...

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Winter has stolen the night,  
          A world I have always known, 
  ...

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"Bonjour, in the cocktail woods"
I see the waffled leaves of teal trees painting pink moon, 
With diamond dahlia arcs, flowering an orchid boon
Sprinkling love of...

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ON THE WAVES OF LOST MEMORIES…

These salted memories tell stories
The oceans and seas gave birth to.

Over the tempestuous waters
Echoes from the bellies of slave ships
Ride...

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When spring arrived, my mother dear
hung things on the clothesline.
The bed sheets were a spotless white.
She loved to see those shine!

Dried in the sun, they...

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