A few poems

Mine

Day of rest, day of reckoning:
cigarette burns down to nothing as I write,
like most things, it flares up, is bright,
and then dies.
Dreams are born and dreams are
extinguished, and I find myself
clutching them as if they were my
children, to be nourished, fed,
and then let go.

I search round every corner for a way
out of this maze, some palm-frond
shimmer to guide me back
to greatness.

Bravery, honor: these words mean nothing
to me. We are worlds apart and worlds apart
and worlds apart...

Still, it is your choice to honor the
life you've been given by willingly
walking, tight-lipped, into the machine jaws
of military madness.

And I always wanted it to be your choice.


Woman

Last night, woman, your face reminded me
of his, pomegranates swelling up in your cheeks,
youthful and radiant.
Something in me craves their roundness,
craves the curves, because we both know
nothing is ever as easy or simple as a
straight line.


Ode to Smoke

I could hardly stifle a gag when I
breathed you out, harsh yet comforting
to my lungs.

Nausea, my tired old friend. Sometimes I
wish I could purge myself of everything,
dust, smoke, my demons, my patterns,
and start anew, my memory swiped
clean as a shiny metal operating table
without the body.

Relieve me of these burdens and someday
I shall be released.