I left for work this morning
but never came home.
The man they sent in my place was older,
weaker. He had a scar across his left
cheek and gray splotches in his hair.
Poetry: Linear Degradation
I left for work this morning
but never came home.
Category: Poetry
I left for work this morning
but never came home.
Poetry: Fever Dream, Part 2
Last night, I dreamed
that you were tossing back highballs
from a martini glass,
and when I pointed this out,
you slapped me,
and said everyone was doing it.
Poetry: The End of Sheep
I’ll count white hairs instead of sheep,
as there are more of them each day.
(How many more? I cannot say,
for when my counting climbs past ten…
Poetry: What the Eyes Do Not See
is given form
by light,
refracting,
reflecting,
translating mass
into shape
and colors
and faces,
but in the darkness…
Poetry: Words
the moment I set them free,
tumbling from chapped lips like
broken acrobats;
the carpet is thick with their
skeletal remains…