Friday, January 27, 2017


light reflects oil canvas
She kisses the dead of winter

There seems tou be a keeper
Holding words in the palms of hands
As fingers break and houses thirst to be castles

Tell me , how do I find the secrets
Locked behind safes - on your wall .

I dress up in the dead of power
Finding only the coward
Losing his key in the blizzard

I run home -

Tiny boats sail across picture frames
No ones home tonight
She's invisible

I make every conversation into letters
As they disengage

I paint