Dead Horses:

sometimes
the best way 
to tell 
if a horse is dead
is to beat it

and wait
to see what happens

Lost:

these words
have lost their savor
typed, as if
memorized
without thinking

Pottery:

you
reminded me of
pottery on the shelf
left over from a date night

bright
mismatched
a little off balance
and tragically one of a kind

your beauty
shining through
in memory and
pure 
charisma 

kept
on the shelf
because no matter
what any of us may say


none of us
will ever be able
to put you away

Quietly:

freedom
lies quietly
in front of you

The Tower:

years ago
I built a tower

young
naive
and eager

it's possible
I thought
that by
building it
a princess
would
conveniently
find her way
there

or, perhaps
I intended
on placing
her
there
myself

I can't remember

I'm sure
it seemed
like a decent
investment
at the time
despite
my clear
lack
of a princess

what better way
to woo a young
woman
than
to already
have a tower
for her
to live in

where she could
be safe

yet
one day
as I put
the finishing
touches
on this tower
that I built
I accidently
locked myself
inside

and no one
has ever
bothered
to let me
out

The Song of the Sea:

I'm not sure 
that I can adequately explain 
the significance of a seagull's call
or the importance of the way 
that it glides through the air


but, it's almost like
the fate of the world
depends on it

Shelves:

they make
shelves
for things
like this

better than
the attic

Jesse:

Jesse has dirt on his hands

she looks at him strangely

Jesse says

'this box holds the answers'

as he hands it to her

she looks at him

in wonderment

Jesse doesn't look ashamed

she says

'this was mine?'

Jesse nods

she looks at him

slightly puzzled

'you had this all along?'

Jesse doesn't say anything

she looks at him bewildered

Jesse puts his hands

in his pockets

she stares at the box

her mouth slightly open

'you made this?'

Jesse answers 'yes'

she looks at him carefully

'it's ours?'

Jesse opens his mouth

stops

then nods

she tries to open it

the box is locked

she looks at him intently

'where's the key?'

Jesse looks at her in the eye

'I gave it to you'

Salvation:

despite the necessary ensuit of dread

that is ever married to the silence of uncertainty

framing doubt almost callously

as if to hang it on the living room wall

beside the greatest of my accomplishments

that fate might relish in my open shame

I am always eager, [naively] filled with hope

as though I had every reason to assume

that this light were true

for, amidst the numbness of hypothermia

and disorientation of the starless night 

any light upon the horizon seems to promise

a sure salvation

and, no matter how hopeless the cause

or how little fight I have left in me

that light shines from an angel

sent by God to rescue me