Ameliorate*

Time has diverted the storm.

The rain of which I once found substance no longer falls.

In presence of adorning light, I feel requited.

I must earn my own water.

The thunder of which I once found peace no longer impends.

In presence of quelling silence, I feel aware.

I must create my own sound.

---

Triadic Ode to Progression

To amend what will not be met;

Like wordless songs from guitar frets

The buoyant lies we held so dear

That did not grow with the vines.

A star, a force, a lovely skew

Armed alongside a less aligned crew

To break, to bend, to try something new

Wilted in such pain ignored.

A discrepant antidote poised to charm

The wake of truth, the vessel of harm

Inception of diligence anchored upon-

Distortion, therein imbued.

---

Storytime

As the moon sits upon seemingly bereft fields

The insatiable crow calls forth the defiance of order

Only to be denied in its libertine determination

By a cowl of opaque fog-

Sweating upon inappreciative soil,

Singing a chorus betwixt limitation,

Reading ceaseless poetry.

The crow squawks in impurity, densely shadowing what it cannot heed

Castigating the infallible will of what is beyond comprehension;

Beyond attainment, beyond continuity, beyond sufferance, beyond perish

There lies the crow’s desire.

And as what fuels those flapping wings

An act of contortion stops without restoration

Sending a mind and its illness to purgatory.

But medial of their confinement lies one instance of egression,

Of which defines their separate intent;

To conquer,

Or to be free.