Ashes Of Ghosts

Words can be empty
even when full.

You can tie them together
like garlic in panty hose,

hang them from
the toe of a lost poet’s dream;

they’re still just words,
empty when full,

ashes of ghosts howling
in the period after goodbye.

Even Though

i woke up this morning
with my bones melting
pooling in the soles of my feet

i squished
when i walked to the bathroom
sloshed when i stopped

yeah though i walk
through the valley
of the shadow …

I still fear!
leaving puddle-prints
of skeletal slush

Thanks for all the comments. I've been very busy trying to start a new business: Pumping poop on Lake Lanier. I hope to have the boat rigged out and EPD/Corps of Engineers approval this week and working next week. In the construction business I've taken enough crap to build a mountain range, it will be nice to get paid for taking it. Hope to be posting and visiting all of y'all soon.

MySpace

Adrift in MySpace
where distance has evolved into sacred chambers,
hidden places,
and thoughts adorn silicon-chip walls,
as photographs,
skewed from whispers of illusory digital mache.