Tuesday, June 7, 2011

When They Find My Bones

                   When they find my bones,

will they know their history,

will they recognize the delicate moments,

will they trace the poignancy,

the joy and the laughter.


When they find my bones,

will memories be etched upon them,

from the hollow of my rib cage,

will the heart leave its shadow,

or some tell-tale dust to mark its

infatuations and its passions,

will the line of my pelvis

give an indication of its bygone libido.


When they find my bones,

will they detect the scars and the mending,

the time of my passing

and all its laments.


When they find my bones,

will the spirit of my presence

reside with them.


When they find my bones,

will humanity remain

haunted by the darkness.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Emotions Rag

I hold onto my emotions
lest they disappear into the
overwhelming silence,
lest they shatter on the
jagged shoreline,
crushed by waves of
sheer indifference.

I encircle my emotions
within my own embrae,
coldness is everywhere.

I no longer insist on acceptance,
or futile gestures
bearing more shadow than meaning.

I’ve planned the ceremonial drowning of
my own meager expectations.

I anticipate no visitors at the
bedside of my dying for
i will soon be forgotten
as it should be.