Grief Fashion Poems

Sweet honey of harmattan 
What a season you are 
To see thee at the eleventh hour 
At the end of the tunnel 
And flown come...

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Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.
The fear of death follows from the...

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On days like these.
I feel the need. 
When lovers roam.
Driven a part, I need these
Feel my hand the reason it bleeds
and most of all I...

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Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

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went out in a new outfit and car, to find I had a flat tire

 
Date Written: 8/24/2020

2 Place     When plans...

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I asked the white student to take off his hood
   The police might suspect he was up to no good
He glared at me,...

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The High Night of the Dark Wind

Dancing fairies on the lake of ice, 
leaving no marks as they pass. 
The tiny birds, chase them...
not to...

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The Fashion Zebra

I am a flake. 
That is the term for people that do not follow through. 
It may not be fair. I have spent...

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Woe betide lower men who fickle facades embrace
And wit’s hard-won gold for shifting dross exchange; 
Dubbing avarice-sired glosses exquisite gems pure,
With obscuring eyes decimating solid...

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Bronwyn the Barbaric was a buxom lass
the envy of all her peers
She spoke with unrivaled swashbuckling sass
her pirate-ess fashion was fierce

She could charm off the...

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I wore popular shin high white boots,
The top in rage of disco dancing queens.
The Bee Gees were the utmost in the clan
The alter of quantifying...

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who felt incorporeal storied power 
   of Herman Melville as zen unseen aid 
instructing hypothetic rich kid to drop out of school 
...

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I bathe in ineptitude--
Adjacent to grief
Returning to folly--
I'm chasing my ghost

We're breeding dissension--
With hearts made from silence
We hire duplicity--
And, plot our demise

We yearn for relation--
But,...

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Measured.

Cut.

Sown.

Worn.

Crumpled.

Forgotten.

Yet once loved....

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From the cedar closet she reached
for a bundle. Holding her breath,
she pushed her head through, pulling down to her torso.
Scattering moths as she walked through...

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