my poetic is
shrouded in a dense fog
yet every dream is
filled with her smile
i stumble drunkenly
barely able to type
chasing fireflies
in the shape of peonies
from small town to
empty parking lots
uncertain of where the
winding roads lead
just a vague sense of
incapacitated wonder
echoing through the
impenetrable haze

a week of weakness
wading the rivers of dream
with one paddle as
whirlpools open at every
blind bend beneath the
skeletal branches yearning
for the summer sun
a copious melange of
heavy malaise settling
over the dark heart of
yesterday’s foolish wants
and as my rickety vessel
takes on the cold waters
i fear not the encroaching
darkness as the pollen
trails guide me home
even as the roads vanish
in the bitter gray of
autumnal dismay in this
saturation of wilted hope