Our Truths

We engrave lines,
Burnishing images onto
Colossal wooden planks;
Chunks that came from
Deep cut depressions;
Screws drilled in forcefully
Without bits to create holes;
Splintered fissures of
Mistakes filled in
With glue infused
Rotating dowels into
Blank blocks spaced out
From the base to hover;
Designs carved into
Vast endings, unseen;
Chips colligate into
Whorls of ecliptical arrays
Building minute blossoms,
Reaching into places
Where our hands
Shouldn’t be able
To reach.

Trash Bag

Drop dead
Rats with piles of filth;
The articles of clothing
You left,
When you decided
This was the end.

Is your life so close to god damned perfect
That you can walk out that door
Without even glancing back.

Don’t be mistaken.
The moment
You decided
You’d abandon
I lost all interest.

But I’ll say I’m sorry

I accidentally
Decapitated one of their heads
When I tried breaking its neck
With a tin can.

It’s in your trash bag.