“Soul and Substance”

Wandering aimless in the woods to the north,

I stumbled upon the floating forlorn fairies.

Squishing their leader with an accidental stomp,

I apologize to the remaining few who laugh with joy.

Bewildered by their bashing buffoonery so bold,

I inquire to their sanity and substance and soul.

Rearranging the corpse with a twig from the forest floor

they shout in unison with fingers pointed, “there is his soul!”

And as I vomit the violence away I see the substance

of their mockings floating to the heavens above,

snickering gouls giggling at my expense as their

once grand leader ascends to nowhere in particular.



“That Certain Smell”

Elevator doors creep open,

bright white lights shining

to the tune of Mozart’s Third.

Turn left through the double

doors that block my mystic

eye from behind the window.

Open made shut by elderly

hands wandering through the

hallway like brittle skeletons

searching for their second skin.

Grim shadows blessed in holy

mists follow their rattling bones

to the blanketed beds of dusk.