Son

Bright child, razor wired, tired baby seeking
a sound, tinging and pinging, rattled tooth, heard misunderstood one.

crooked neck, pecking tiny toned saviors, helping hands, sweating palmed, slapping while hoping, generously given, open like a petaled morning kiss.

seven twenty three fiver, thriving heavily on nickel coppered conductivity, ripping out outerwear, a light beam, a star-named Sun, son of a greater galactic peace.

never ever

cold caramel, rock-hard, slipping out like foggy sweet things you said, flowing warming syllables of swirling mixtures, cavities, silken ice that crept up, frosty as if we never ever.

tiny red itching fire pot, creeping investigator, rending, a blue hole, holding sell, prison cell, death camp traveled, Pi calculated love story fiction, as if we never ever.

plastic kings, zip locked air tight kids, flying round, blurring wizardry, poof and puff, like breathing, surfacing after being down 30 seconds too long, as if we never ever were.

hoping sister

sat in, ragged and rugged, threading through simple talk, closing doors with mirrored pages.

slowly stepping, stools as visages, vestibules filled up like scaring papers, patterned after umber walkers, vying for forgiveness.

hoping sister, hopping about like fresh energy, wattage filled sparker, letting go, electrifying!

vanishing man

film figures, transparency walkers, between pains, tapped at wild animals, caged beasts, once noble, truth filled, unaware.

children's books filled with peaks, and capped boys, dancing boys, pure rhythm sons with tongues, cannabis kids, rode red busses west, studied lines of faces, finding tribes and flying.

captive dogs find a pen, vanishing man hears no sounds, what dreams may come, will go to dust and silence.