Nights in Red Satin
I own a red robe.
It’s the kind of silly
satin
sexy
that other women wear when they
smoke cigarettes.
I’ve never worn it
For long.
I’m not the type to wear
lingerie
or bedclothes
even when I, myself,
smoke cigarettes.
Yet…I’ll keep it
perhaps for a while.
It reminds me of what
I could have been.
Supernova
There are days
and here again
there are Days
when words and thoughts
fail me.
Beyond the circuitry
shorting out…
The brush, the pencil
and even the pen
feel like foreign strangers
in my hand,
unable to communicate
with my head at all.
The words are garbled
or non-existent,
the images blacked out.
My thoughts are
Everywhere, racing
panicked.
And on these days
I wish I knew how
to draw a supernova.
An Homage to Treatment
Sitting idly in idyll
an island in the center.
The stream of life
breaks and flows around
but never overflows its banks.
Bucolic stupor spreads
faster than fat through flesh.