Good Witch

I’m a good witch. Mostly. 
Mostly good.
But not all
But not bad
I throw cards
Commune with spirits
Light incense
Caress crystals 
and burn bits of paper 
with images I drew
maybe of you
Rituals not meant 
to harm
Not meant 
to keep anyone from harm
Hands waved through smoke
Desires recited 
for karmic lessons
to be swift
Maybe suffering 
in some way
not unearned
Not quite 
plotting revenge
But definitely
aligned with it
Like a good witch. Mostly. 
Mostly good. 

THE DARK NIGHT

 

I never had a "dark night of the soul". 
That would have been 
too fancy, 
too helpful. 
Rather, 
I preferred the routine 
of knocking my head 
against a perpetual, 
relentless, 
screaming 
dusk.

ROMANTICS

romantics are the holy ones

the calloused ones, the brave

with eyes as wide as sea shores,

hearts as dark as graves

addicted to the best in man

blind to faults and scars

oblivious to grief on earth

abandoned to the stars

ant

 

Haiku for smoke detector

something in the hall

chirps every thirty seconds

dirge for Duracell 

Lightning Bugs

Being a writer is being a catcher

A catcher of light in a jar

You never get better

You never get good

Just depends how many there are 

The bugs that shine light

They come or they don’t 

There’s no knowing how many, how bright 

Your job’s to just sit there 

And welcome them enter

Then screw the lid on fucking tight