ash and flood

i am a mountain
of an ashtray
of a man


i am a mountain
of an ashtray
of a man
the shadow calls from valleys
in my chest
in my hands
cupped water never spills
until the cracks
in the black
night widened eyes stretch
until the sun
and i are one
encompassed in the neutron star
phase shift
thoughts drift
a black hole necklace weighs
all of me
but nothing
is glory without the blood
running water
drowning fathers
on knees at the bottom of the staircase
forgive me son
for i have sinned
your mother has all the grace
and i live in a mistake
read these wrinkles, chapter and verse
the spirit rides a white horse
across the bridge of our words
bless me
and dress me
in silk like an offering
i offer the river and the sea
i come with hands full of wondering
do you hear like me?
a slurred voice
mumbled breathing
repetition makes us mean something
handle this with gloves on
the sickness is catching
quarantined in a pill bottle
measured and refilled
i’m at the door white knuckled
praying for rain
am i washed out again?
a needle pinprick
a vial of blood
if all that’s left of you is a puddle
does that make me the flood?

seven chains of the shadow king

twenty seven years is how long it took
young prince scaling mountains as they shook
three rivers in the valley, his hands cupping water
building stick houses singing his father’s song
two doors in his chest, one push one pull
every breath he holds until heart is full
a third door stands open in sad eyes
within a sigh every time the sun rises
heavy with smoke he is on his knees
held back by the seven chains of the shadow king
its all old, every word and thought
not something found but bought
every day passes another battle fought
skip, trip and slip until he’s caught
another moment in the lion’s jaws
sweet slumber shaken when another wall falls

young prince pays the price of perpetuation
every circle etched feeds his infatuation
with the sensation of elation that comes
from being patterned out over and over again
he’s calling out over and over again
mother are you crying again and again
father will i see you again and again
the mountain will crumble again
and he’s there, fumbling at the corners
trying to make his bed neat, no hope for mourners
grief makes the heart sweet, no love for loners
all windows shut and all doors open
young prince kneeling in a dream
wrapped in the seven chains of the shadow king