light of day

she walks through the worm earth

dirt with a circus mind


crippling headache like a roar

of tigers


eats a bag of peanuts while

elephants starve


she watches a saw bone man fix

broken acrobats


who trapeze onto straw floors


smells a thousand miles of

rail track


and smoke;


train stations orphanages to



where Tennyson holds up



of fairy tales;


horse and buggies sit quiet

on dirt streets


as a circus caravan leaves

wagon wheel metal




sideshow freaks a confusing

swirl of ugly


and bizarre


hookie school children watch

from behind nails


and crooked boards;


air slams on big top canvas,



clowns come out of cartoon



horses and hoops of fire,

they jump through

like moths through a lantern



in a gilded cage, lions pace

with memories


audience puts its clapping in

mason jars,


grocer sells on shelves next

to old cans of soup;


she was a high−wire performer,



fell to a sound of a crackerjack

box tab pull


her epitaph makes ash and dust

her paper


husband to hold, rain cries like



stands with flowers, reads a poem,


“i sleep in your sounds that

call me

i swallow your voice,

your love

i forget this world and dream of

your eyes kissing me

your soul is liquid thirst in

my heart”


light of day paints earth,

he feels


her breath, her touch,

a loving silence.


Copyright © 05/25/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


she stood in a desperate wound

straw baskets are sown and sit by empty fireplaces
church preacher man writes a sunday sermon, wraps
it up in aluminum foil
his daughter, a beautiful thing, in love with a military
man, gets the, “we’re sorry to inform” letter
water from rusted pipes put in an aging kettle, set
on a stove, she waits for the slow boil
she watches from an old window frame, wild horses
gallop on wave edge salt
a wound would be required of her, morning comes in
a quiet corner of her solitude
leaves lie beneath her feet, she leans against bark
her father delivers his tedious speech, rice sits in 
brown bags impatient for a forgotten wedding
in a tucked away closet, a wool suit is besieged 
by moths
rain water wet drunkenly collects in oak, banded
barrels beneath corroded downspouts
she dips her silver cup in for a taste, bandages
wrapped to guise
her father reads letters marked personal, black
and white photos show 
colorless, insecure faces
plastic flowers planted in cemetery soil, watered
daily by her sightless eyes
tears absorbed by gauze bandage, changed daily,
tears changed daily
she is slowly dying, a congregation dies.
Copyright © 05/02/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®