Silent Song

#5 Silent song

Used to hate
wind humming in my head,
till she silently sang
the entire sleeping car.
We were not going,
not mourning,
getting run over by trams
and gigantic ants.
The burst of silence
echoing in patterns,
the flight of a myriad
against the twilight.
Untying the shoelaces
hiding from the
deepest wells,
blocking the lacrimal canals.

Watching Vultures

January 6, 2013

#4 Watching vultures

Sleep or the lack of it,
watching vultures
in anticipation of greater circles,
warm water
in my lungs.
Abandoned midway
a fanged conversation,
forsaken.
Grief,
a derivative of
modern gestures,
a dog’s tail,
wags its way
through human eyes
and dead meat.