The potent marker is
damned
by the
continuous weight of
Real Life

becoming a dull
scratch art knife,
simply
scraping away
at a stranger's design.

Yet...
             in bathtub and hot tea moments
ink e x p a n d s within its fervent chamber,
remembering the fiber of the
pregnant point in time

Scribbles
snap
          a splash

             of meaning

amidst
a world
of monochrome

Floating sphere of joy
ever out of reach
you're a
mouthful of hope
but I'm clenching iron teeth

Braced, paced
level with the facts
That every glimpse we have
of You
will never last

Me; a craving tree
with hallow trunk
wrestling with the earthly truth-
of fading flowers

sweet cream

hungry and
haunted
gestures of love so often eluded

by fear of exposure,
And a soiled soul's
enclosure.

thorny coils choke the
cry within the throat
concealing
the famished
Dove
so aware of all her
blood-
guilt
iness
and

stains

crowbar fingers and
sweet cream of syllables
"let me love"
drenches
shredded heart tendons

and thickened layers
delicate
tumble from skies
and yearning eyes;

beneath the prickly veil
a humble
child
cries
so grateful
to know
she is
truly
alive