This is not going to be elegant,
nor polished, as sliver spoons...

I've scraped surfaces
of what needs to be...

Acidic revelations
dance upon crystals...

Hello Mom P-
It's been a year and ten months...

I go to a place where
dreams criss cross...

A mother holds her dying child in her mind,
heart and soul...

I'll Return to Mother Earth
toil my hands within her roots...

Expressions rage cross my face
while fingers tap away on counter tops...

She lurked behind corridors
disguised as a queen...

My soul has become parchment paper.
Frayed, around a silhouetted frame...

Early morning sighs
of a cricket's mating...

Jewelry jumps in his jacket of joy
jolly jokes jive from the jaws of a boy...