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