Your good-bye arrives devoid of return address,
all well-wishes and finality.
I do not yet know your meaning of good-bye.
So I check obituaries for ghosts of present, future,
or past, that may never come.
That shifting mirages will haunt my dreams
is my only certainty:
Tag: suicide
Romans
I don’t understand
why I can’t have
what I want.
Suicidal Rain
Drops fall in unison,
roaring on the roof like
a giant’s fan sent to cool the homestead off.
Meanwhile, the beads that fell first
splash into puddles and pots,
filling rows up when all they did was fall down.
The grey has never brightened your mood,
but I guzzle water.
You don’t see its point; You want
the sun to match the marigolds,Read More »
Alphabet Ravine 