Forest For

Never so acutely focused

While so helplessly detached

House built within my room

Without me hearing a single

Hammer blow

Only think to look up

When I stop looking down

The nail in my own foot

Through and through

Pointing to the new ceiling

So encompassed

By my own pain

I don’t see the art

He made

Work of children


For the play of adults

Not managing tears

Real or forced

The stakes are too high

Serves me right

Should sweat

Streak across the floor

Hope the skin catches

Pinches in the grain

Remember the trees

Cut down with my axe

The next time I

Curse the sun


Beg for shade

And burn


Such things as purple, bruised sunsets

Shared with the happiest of proclamations

If I knew you, I would already know

But I don’t

I daren’t

A step outside to see, in wonder

A foot, a hand, and neck closer

To the fall

None to fault if there wasn’t a push

But a hunt for protection

Defend against recrimination

Regrets as evidence


I daren’t

Bible is crumbled and faded

Can’t hear the good news

Over the banshee’s scream

But at least the deserted howl is familiar

Nothing left but desire

Smashed in place

Like a broken bottle

Clean up the pieces

Only your own soles to slash

Everyone gone but


No worse for wear

Kindness of strange

Comfort of packing

Leaving keys behind

I daren’t


Best to leave the stage

In the uncovered dark


-for Tennessee