Null Set Design

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Highway Hymn VIII

Its eyes twinkle
filled with fear
frozen in the glare
White patches still
speckle the brown coat
legs taut coiled up
like a compressed spring
It stares at me, then
this trapped apparition
dissolves like vapor
into the underbush

Highway Hymn VII

...Driving into the setting sun
watch it rise again
in the rearview
hours fly by
miles roll on
destination always the same
an escape
an arrival
hellos and goodbyes
always connected
but slightly removed
watching myself...

Highway Hymn VI

Tongues of orange flame shine, showing the way
glowing little sprites
of argon headlights
peirouette off trees 'til the break of day

Feet must be tired from dancing all night
soon the sun will shine
on the yellow line
chariot of Helios soon in sight

Your nocturnal performance almost done
your legs must be sore
my weary escort

On blacktop dance floor
the last steps cut short
by the curtain call of the rising sun

Highway Hymn V

Telephone wires race along
whispering their electric song
tires on the road quietly hum
Silence is my only friend
when their songs saddly end
fingers on the wheel begin to drum

my solitary soulful song
only I know how to hum
I've never told my best friend
only my fingers know the end
and slowly they rest upon my drum
the rhythm of the road carries along

Flip on the radio, voices hum
the sound becomes my friend
I like this song, hope it won't end
raindrops on cartops start to drum
radio cuts out, I keep driving along
stuck in my head, the words to a song

Looking back, recall a friend
a time when summer refused to end
crickets keep the rhythm like a drum
who would've known how far along
I would have gotten without her song
the one I always secretly hum

I've no idea if she met her end
wether her heart refused to drum
when the river of life swpt her along
and all I can remember is her song
that long ago she taught me to hum
a cherished gift from a misplaced friend

Radio comes back, loud as a drum
with resurrected sounds, I sing along
raindrops still tap dancing their subtle song
tires on wet blacktop continue to hum
these sources of music a constant friend
hoping their companionship will never end

This journey has no definate end
so long as tires always hum
and blacktop is there to carry along

Miss you

Seven simple numbers
and I could hear your voice
It's all I want right now
but my fingers are frozen
on the last digit

Highway Hymn IV

The girl in the beat-up blue Volvo
riding my bumper, keeping up
face in the rearview a friendly reminder
that I'm not alone on this road
The double straight line showing the way
suddenly shifts to a broken yellow
triangular sign shouting "Pass with care"
She flies by me at 80 mph
window down, blows me a kiss
a strange helloless goodbye
Again I'm alone on this road
tail lights slowly fading
to matchstick pinpoints
snuffed out by the horizon

Highway Hymn III

There is a certain joy
in the fear of being lost
with no map to guide
There was a time (oh yes)
when stars could tell
that arcane knowledge lost
instead of constellations
substitute road signs
man relying on man
to show the way
But pay them no heed
we've truely no need
to be told where we're going
when we long to be lost

Highway Hymn II

The road is dark
headlights barely show
the empty cold blacktop
stretched miles ahead
stretched miles behind
This road is not traveled
except by the weary
for it truely leads nowhere
where few seek to go

Highway Hymn I

The double yellow line
pulls the car along
like a fish on a hook
towards the ice chest
lured by the bait
of the lonely escape

Unification

In the city of Marble everything
makes sense; the people know the rules and laws.
The citizens can see the hand keeping
balance; the equations reveal no flaws.
There also exists a city of wood
where chaos is a way of life; town's folk
do what they please. In here anything could
happen; actions random as clouds of smoke.
Though these two cities' behaviors oppose
and these metropoleis violently fight,
blind to the common seed from which they rose;
their fundamental disagreement right.
By ascending, their ways become the same,
the rules are revealed to this cosmic game.

(A version of this poem is being published in the Millersville literary journal, The George Street Carnival)

Flower Girl

Remember how he used to bring candy?
Gorging himself, belt undone, Thanksgiving
Stormed in wearing a beard of shaving cream
Fight back the urge to laugh, swallow it down

How he used to call me his favorite
his little princess, his bright shining star
I'd giggle as his wiskers touched my cheek
Swallow it down, fight back the urge to laugh

His sea-green eyes always danced with mischief
some juvenile prank ready to be sprung
Squirting flowers, whoopy cusions, buzz rings
Fight back the urge to laugh, swallow it down

His waxen lips hold a devious smile
his eyes still sparkling under closed lids
Wishing he'll sit up, say it's all a joke
Swallow it down, fight back the urge to cry

My Father's Father's House

Tearing the building down
silently mourn the passing
stood here for seventy years
housed three generations
used to be rural, out of the way
now propped between
two brand new stop lights
on a traffic laden road
This place is too furtile
to waste on delapidation
but who will mourn the passing?
The bulldozer won't
not a single oily tear
It has to go, like everything
tear it down to build again
this house like a pheonix
a stripmall born from the ashes
Not as aesthetically pleasing
but better for the community
Tear it down, make it new
okay, but mourn the passing

Marriage in Miniture

touch on the hand
knowing smile
twinkle in the eye
both parties know
how this night will end
after the dinner
the movie
the drinks
the laughs
it comes back
to the bed
pulling straws for position
after the act
his chest rising and falling
her head doing the same
kiss on the check
caress on the arm
drifting off to sleep
day's over, problems forgotten
they turn out the lights

Beachhead

Keep the frost out, bury it six feet deep
build the cage, lock it up, and toss the key
hide it now (in a tree, under a bush?)
push it down below, we've no need to see

They make their moves, and still they chip away
lips cold, trying to lick the meaty core
Finally the walls of Troy have been breached
while ten thousand ships leave the blood stained shore

Winks and whispers again, out of the blue
the surprise attack no one expected
Lightning finger tips caressing the brain
of the watchman asleep, his task neglected

She dances to me, a thief in the night
in an old abandoned jewelry shop
that ever houses the one priceless gem
this crime we're all destined never to stop

The one fatal flaw, it came from the act
of hiding this thing so deep in the earth
though we never watered or tended it
divine intervention gave the seed birth

Bliss

Atom bomb sing songs
play through the mind
searching for answers
to questions undefined

There is always solace
in blissful solitude
folding into the self
come out refreshed, renewed

She told me once
to find my bliss
only to be realized
in a brief stolen kiss

Starcrossed (you know who you are)

She is my setting sun
beautiful like lipstick red
She is my loaded gun
cold blue steel against my head

She is my three-fold muse
whispered dirty words in ears
She is my wicked bruise
the wellspring of joys and tears

She is my car-crash star
hunched over the steering wheel
She is my jagged scar
mark that refuses to heal

She is my closest friend
disguised as an enemy
She is my sidewalks end
the love that can never be

Ex

Being with her was kind of like
taking a spin on my old bike
Fun at first, for maybe a day
then I remembered why I put it away

The Green Lamp

Humming of florecent the light
its buzzsaw lyrics comfort me
The sun itself is much too bright
blinding my eyes, can barely see

In this room, a tomb of sorts
perpetual day stems off night
The sun can curse, spit retorts
but in here there is only light

I could do it, get up if I felt
like leaving, taking flight
make the walls of this place melt
but that would bring only blight

Yet truth be told, filled with fright
this artificial day is comforting
fills me with courage, gives me might
the green lamp, it lets me sing

The Cardinal

Flash of red in a field of green
it hops from the lawn into a tree
does it know how wonderful
rain on an early fall day smells?
head boobing, wings twitching
free bath for the tired aviator
wisked away by the scent, gone.

55 word story

Moving up slowly, she slips into my room. Footfalls barely audible, the sparse light dances off her features. She is searching for something (aren't we all), and my slight breathing does not give me away.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
She jumps, and says, "Nothing, I was just wondering if you were awake."
"I am now."

Postmodern Paris pt III

I understand how Paris felt
when he looked upon Helen
in Menelaus' house

Did he pine for her silently
in her husband's presence?
Did their every shared touch
witnessed make his blood boil?

He probably had a companion
to plot with, to console him
all through the long nights.

Did butterflies fill his chest
as he tried to keep his cool?
Did he fear the wrath that
would be visited upon his head?

I bet they both shuddered at every
shared touch not caught by her
husband's ever watchful eye.

Run away with me, I'd say
but I know you won't
You are no Helen of Troy
and saddly, I no Paris.

Villanelle to Cerberus

Drift off to sleep my threeheaded pet
To get to her, I must go through you
Though recently parted, the sun has not set

With lyre in hand I'll weave this net
Make eyelids heavy, dreams fill your view
Drift off to sleep my threeheaded pet

Love taken from me, heart filled with regret
Again I'll kiss her lips, but first i need through
Though recently parted, the sun has not set

This lulaby will calm, make you forget
Be lax in the task you're forced to do
Drift off to sleep my threeheaded pet

Once I am passed, with her be well met
Then our love to refresh and renew
Though recently part, the sun has not set

Your eyes drooping, not quite asleep yet
Blood on the strings, I'll keep sing until you
Drift off to sleep my threeheaded pet
Though recently parted, the sun has not set

To a Wayward Muse

Staring down at the blank page
smilingly, she mock me
Yellowing, the paper begins to age

Striving so hard for an image
trying to pry lines free
Staring down at the blank page

Frustrated, mind filled with rage
over images never come to be
Yellowing, the paper begins to age

Pleading her, offering up sage
waiting for her on bent knee
Staring down at the blank page

Waiting for a line to take the stage
reach out and watch her flee
Yellowing, the paper begins to age

This knot too complex to engage
this padlock wthout a key
Staring down at the blank page
Yellowing, the paper begins to age

The Tower

The tower, filled with all I need
for the long jouney ahead
also filled with nothing I want
I opted for exile instead
I sit in this great ivory tower
built with my own two hands
Touch the walls, cold and smooth,
immune to the shifitng sands

Sitting here, want for food
but I know that none shall come
Sitting here, want for friends
but I know that none shall come

Alone, candllight plays off seams
of aged volumes long thought lost
I dare not, will not open them
protected by a layer of mildewed frost
I work up the nerve to try the door
but know my craftsmanship well
This portal shall not, cannot budge
My own fingers worked the spell

Sitting here, want for smoke
but I know that none shall come
Sitting here want for drink
but I know that none shall come

I look to the small single window
watch the grey-black clouds roll by
I could jump, the fear is too great
this tower I built too high
Unwillingly, I resign myself
back to the task at hand
Here in my ivory tower
Immune to the shifting sand

Postmodern Paris pt II

I understand how Paris felt
when he looked upon Helen
in Menelaus' house

Did her frantic ramblings
make him want to hold her?
Did her every tear burn
like acid on his flesh?

Did he feel this sneaky, this slimy
with every thought of her ivory skin
on the nape of her neck?

Was every stolen glance
worth its weight in gold?
Did every chance touch
send shivers down spines?

They probably held secret council.
She cursing her uncaring husband;
he hanging on her every word.

Run away with me, I'd say
but I know you won't.
Saddly, I am no Paris
and you no Helen of Troy.

Discussion with Selene

We watched the almost full moon come up
that chill pre-autumn night

It rose quite quickly
offhanded remark
the field was bright
the way home dark

I want to stay here forever
No cares, except for a sweater
We really do have it good here
and this night's made it better

I could too, but not right now
too much upon my plate
work to do, lines to right
and besides it's getting late

With one more smoke we were gone
leaving that once holy ground
Shed tears still stained your face
Light was pale; homeward bound

That pre-autumn chilly night
wish we'd walked 'til the sun came up

Vermont and P

Redneck fashion drop out
Eyes me from across the club
I sit alone, reading Rilke
She stumbles over to me
Gin and lipstick and sex

“You’re cute!”

“Yeah, thanks.”

My eyes return to the page
But she hovers, click click,
Jaw moving, Big Red
My eyes return to her
As she lights a smoke

“What’s your name?”

“John Galt.”

And back to the page
Still she buzzes around me
A fly obsessed with a rotten peach
Once again, I look up
Her eyes have changed

“You’re weird.”

“I know.”

She plods back to her friend
Defeat visible in fallen shoulders
I just smile across the table
At the girl in white, face aglow
She whispers me these lines

Waxwing Confession

You always did warn me
about flying too close
to the sun

These wings are made of wax
Your every touch seems to melt
Reminding me that you
are forever out of reach

I flew too high
tried to taste the sun
my lips got singed
my wings merely feathers
held on by a layer of wax
that drips from my arms as I dare
to embrace your firey form

Covered in wax
you pull from me
I slowly soar down
forever earthbound
by that one glorious night
I was burnt by the sun

Pursuit

She runs through the wilds
Branches scratch the skin
Forehead shimmers
Her eyes wide
Fear written in her lips
She stumbles and almost falls
Her hand is torn open
As the oak catches her fall
She peers behind her
Is he still there?

The beast ever present
The god whose heart she stole
He chases, is relentless
Knowing the chase will kill her
The fool keeps coming
And she still runs

Her heart is racing
She can hear him coming
Breaking branches
Kicking up rocks
His panting carries
In the cold night
She finds her footing
And is off once more

The trees seem to want
To hinder, to hold back
She fights, rips, defaces
The wall of trees immobile
Any type of penetration
Almost impossible
Then, she finds a hole
And the woods break open

Her feet touch water
She stops, the glade impassable
No where to run, her head tilts up
Crescent moon dancing in her eyes
For a moment she is calm
Then the echo of pursuit
Reaches her ears
And her feet take root
Skin turns to bark
Fingers form branches
Hair becomes leaves
"Thank you," she whispers
And the river replies
"You are safe now, my daughter"
And slowly, she bends into a laurel