I only put pen to paper twice on my 2-week-long expedition. How sad. Here they are:


Symphony #62: Melody for Heartbreak

Feet slip down off rickety steps
and walk through beaded meadow grass.
Broken kaleidoscopes and shiny metal,
a melody for her heartbreak, heart take
a breath and relieve firefly sighs
from crushed rib cages. A rhyme to
tick tock time and rewind spaces;
pockets of eclectic watches and eyelashes
dipped in hard molasses.
I saw you steal a kiss from a King.
I saw you under moonlight when
moonlight was all you needed to be
effervescent. Too tired now to lift
the glasses, tinted shades of reflections,
hollowed in their shells. Too tired,
so you lay down flat in the oil spilled
black from your toenails
when you couldn't sleep. And you befell
the longest step, thrown to the ashes
by the Great King,
himself.



A 12 Dollar Ticket

Faces etched in stone,
screaming a pearled echoing silence
in dimly lit museums,
where children pass.
Paintings muted and bleeding
down the walls, as women
tutter acknowledging words and men
light ashen cigarettes;
pushing towards the end,
ignoring tapered velvet.