Taurus In the Arena

Your blue-eyes surprise keeps me dreaming. The battered self, waits for the hallucination.

Too high to notice the iron fists, the ants carrying piecemeal
the smoke and ash that trail my fingers, as baby blue hangs silently like a sinner. In each bed you find a void beside,
as the words hang like thick summer air. The bodies you've declared are constant and forever, like the smiles you see on Van Gogh's crows. The gray day shadows embrace these ghosts
Mercy reveals its afflicted face. My words, now, must compete with your bare-breasted presence, as the sun warms your skin
that has escaped the protection of my blanket.

(published in 2006 by Black Book Press