Yellow

Yellow
from Colors
9/12/2009
By Me

Five months and the coffin will be nailed shut;
Everything known will be forgot;
My recurring resting place has been sought.
My time now has been cut,
And in these few days, I’ve been bought.
I’m haunted by pain of the yellow spot,
The lucent pain causing silent smut.
Unfortunately, I’ve been caught.

And as I silently sit all alone,
I feel the yellow meandering moan,
And the endless rapping of the drone.
I wonder, will I ever be home.

I am in repair,
And have been left bare.

The Professor’s City of Sunshine

The Professor’s City of Sunshine
from The Natural Chronicles
4/14/2009
By Me

The wind willingly creates the susurrus of the trees
In this obfuscatory day in the city of sunshine.
Unfortunately, the yielding yellow lamp leaves
The sky lightless. How have these shivering shallow deciduousness of thine
Come to this city of sunshine? The holy hole of white light and vapors
Of the life paint a labile sky, but it was not native nature that brought
This chimerical, grandiloquent pulchritude to the city of sunshine. Neighbors

And visitors beseech vicissitude after portending an outré destination. The thought
Of natural life meandered away from the destructive
Citizens. Have I, the denizen, become a citizen or am I just a resident,
An inhabitant of the city of sunshine who is obsessive
Of being called Natural. “But Professor” you say, No student!
Their Artifice has taken plenary manipulation causing this disease.
I will watch the mellow morning reverse etiolation of the trees.

Flawless Flower

Flawless Flower
from The Natural Chronicles
1/9/09
By Me

Stamen-less creation of style and stigma
Oh, do the strong winds blow you to your last four petals.

The Journey of the Minute Hand

The Journey of the Minute Hand
By Me
4/13/2009


Twenty-two minutes later the clock struck eight.
Once the Minute hand was right of the Hour,
A gear went loose and caused the hand to fall.
The miniscule Minute was under command
Of the silent, secret, slithering Second
And controlled the ever honorable height
Of the Hour. This predicament quickly

Darkened the future of idle increments.
What became of the might-less Minute hand?
Instantaneously, the holy hand reverted back
To its indigenous form, an alloy of metals,
Heat, sweat, life and love. Gravity took its
Independent effect on the falling hand,
The Fall without the Hour and Second hand.

His Story

His Story
By Me
2009

Nameless he walks, staring
Into the light ray maze.
He mumbles lines of life,
“The cycle ne’er ends as she
Is reborn from the flames.
How does she rightfully
Return in this fond frigid
Night.” Long I ponder stare
And fear the blue-amber.

“Instinctively mapped, is
Her path, or is it not
Calculable. No! Or
Entropic; burns birth burns
Melancholic trees burn.