FIRESTARTER
Carrying
small flames
in asbestos
pockets
of an
insulated overcoat,
he
clandestinely traverses
city streets,
tossing a
spark here,
a smoldering
cinder there
that
temporarily ignites
then
extinguishes
but serves as
an admonition
to all to
take heed
within their
present comforts
and
disingenuous deeds,
this phantom
in his dark cloak,
hoping to go
unnoticed
on his way
toward the cemetery
to abscond
the souls
of those that
think
they may rest
in peace.
SNEAK ATTACK
It might
happen anywhere,
anytime, day
or night,
in your
bedroom, at work
or in the
field where you casually stroll
to view the
beauty of sunsets
against the
tree-lined sky.
There will be
no yearning,
no nostalgic
provocation,
the sun, the
moon, and the stars
will not tip
their hands,
but suddenly,
without warning,
she will materialize
in your mind
and
breathlessly you will stagger
at the
impossible tangibility
of her
appearance,
the meteoric
rise of your pulse
as her
phantom touch
sends your thoughts
asunder,
your dizzying
need,
reflecting,
and magnifying
that unquenchable
desire
the years
long ago absconded.
SECRETS IN MOONLIGHT
He sat upon
the boulder
not quite
centered
in the middle
of the field
and flipped
the pages
of nighttime‘s
novel
to the
chapter where the moon
ascended
above the white pines,
fir tips giving
the massive face
shaded
stubble
as clouds on
either side
shaved the
surface closely
then departed
slowly enough
for the stars
to begin the
following chapter,
enhancing glows
that extended
the moonbeam’s
pale path
which he
followed
off this rock
of familiarity
to the page
where dreams
dared to be
considered
amid the sandy
mesh of light,
descriptive
details in separate paragraphs
which he read
upon these
ashen pages,
eventually
lifting his eyes from the glow
to absorb the
mystical message
he received
from the luminosity
as he closed
the book,
shifted
homeward,
bolstered by
an aura of reverie
the
translucent light imparted.
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