Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Dancing Shadows

on the farthest
wall you can see
a portrait of the finest
elements

each aspect
of the story emerges
by the firelight

telling a story blown
out of proportion
by the flame.

When I Lose My Head

when the executioner
comes remember my name
or at least what I stood for

as soon as I decide
what that is.

Mailbox

I'm going to make a mailbox
in the shape of my face

So I can chew up junk mail
and digest love letters.

Red Ink

I find my jagged
old name written
in the forever words

I find my future
and past in all the words
of an ancient tome.
 
HR Creel