
white blossoms
seen through still bare trees:
looks like fog, sans fog.

white blossoms
seen through still bare trees:
looks like fog, sans fog.

a full moon glows:
its color, pale yellow —
posing as the sun.


Condemnation placard
Stapled to the church door
With the commanding tone
Of Luther’s notice.
The Condemned has stately bones
But its skin and viscera
Are in shambles.
Sun pierces stained glass,
Bathing dirty surfaces
With bright color,
But the dust and rat shit
Remain to create a
Miasma within.
One day a wrecking ball
Will make good on the
Condemnation.


