4 poems
1.A Smile.
It was a smile.
It was a smile that used the wrong muscles in her face;
it was a smile that didn’t come from the same place as the real ones.
This smile didn’t come from the amber, sunlit mornings
When light isn’t quite yet there, coating the world in shadows and gold
Laying another blanket of sun upon where we slept
Lighting her stray hairs afire in a nebula of filaments surrounding her slumber
The real smiles happened when she opened her eyes and was glad I was there
I had real smiles too.
This smile.
This smile was a ragged blanket that kept you from freezing but not warm
This smile came from street corners and bars
It was a smile encumbered by grey afternoons
When the sun hasn’t had the decency to let me sit in the dark yet
It wasn’t real, just summoned by the channels of interaction
Falsifying the connection in communication between us all
This smile happened when the door closed and she was glad to see me go
2.Another Night in Paradise
“Another night in paradise” he quipped
He spoke to his cigarette, mostly
But the moths fluttering by the light
Were welcome to listen in – the cigarette was better conversation though
The moths just bitched
3.Angels
I don’t believe in god
But I think I’ve seen angels
Seraphs walking amongst the scum on the crust
Only visible by the light in their eyes
I don’t believe in love
But I’ve seen beauty in that light
Caught in the iris like a piece of tangible joy
Only fading when smothered by the darkness
I don’t believe in evil
But hate and rage are a close synthesis
Following each other in a quiet waltz
Only to be encumbered with shadows at each turn
I don’t believe in purity
But all shadows are cast by a light
Deepest hues in dim places
Only to be shifted by a point of brilliance
I don’t believe in god
But I think I’ve seen angels in the darkest of places
Causing the shadows to shift
Only to cast their own
4.Old Man
This man has a kindness about him
Shelled by an exterior that is
Whiskey, sawdust, woodsmoke
A kindness that leaks into the world through the spark in his eye
Followed by sadness, but only if you don’t blink
Sitting beside me, he
Has a grizzled beard
Once jet black, but now silver
Like his thinning hair.
Promising wisdom
I don’t think he believes he owns
A man of wood and rocks
Remaining as immobile as the mountains
His life’s work has been to shift
