I will love you into caskets / and weave you into baskets / To cradle all my peeling thoughts / Of wisdom words in clawed out hopes / Of hollowed hands dug into dirt / Of hallowed strands restored toward hurt
All by Anthony Herman
Bells
And thus on that delightful day my worries washed away with a visit to the three sisters Belle. I once crossed paths with the eldest during a particularly crass predicament. To protect my pride, I'll omit what occurred that day; but by the end of it, I owed the dame a few dimes.
Eulogy to My Shadow
you are a stacked tower of satellite gloom / glowering your raspy doom in drab lighting / grey as crackled concrete spitting / tart textures of gravel into / every / crooked / crevice
Breakdown Season
i see the fragments everywhere now:
i spot the cracks, the crevices,
the shedding of shells and shards,
flying off like freebound scrapnel—
the ache of everyone flaking away,
fading into the sunlight of day;
Hollow Games
“Can you please stop chewing so loudly.”
I shoot a contemptuous glance at Adrian, begging the fresh coffee he sips to scald his vocal chords useless. I throw him a crooked smirk and take my next bite with exaggerated caution, as if his words had put me on mute…
The Storm
A ring, a reverberation, a vibration, a brash ration...