Just a couple of poems I've written recently.. Sonnet: West Ward 9/04 Terminal troupe of feet pajamas goes From room to room, sliding round the corners, Skittering passed the numb and mute mourners; Here is where death reaps what a parents sews. Where hats conceal wounds, where everyone knows Your name and dose; where friends are foreigners; And so it goes: you are the coroners. Your face is a mirror, your disease it shows. But the troupe barges in in masks they made That they wear to pretend theyre far away, Where their parents can still stand to touch them, Where the tears waiting behind their eyes fade, Where folks will see them and not need to say, May God bless you and keep you, child, amen. and... Breaking the Fourth Wall 9/04 partitioned off by 10,000 days Im merely in lieu of everyone else. my apartment has me apart from function synapse firing filling out crosswords irreverent answers ignorant of clues C-O-U-L-D E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E J-U-S-T D-E-C-O-M-P-R-E-S-S-? L-I-K-E R-I-G-H-T N-O-W-? I collected bridges to myself obsessively; she was one of them no one else commutes to the Self. I quit and burned the bridges, which smolder and contort like matchsticks while I watch, standing on the opposite shore. Through the walls I hear a chair dragged across a wooden floor And I feel obliged to cough loudly or knock a heavy book to the ground Orchestrated cacophony, I play my part, for nothings sake Because on the opposite shore I cant hear the symphony.