flowers in attic
don’t color any sad lives.
dead for funerals.
Haikus
some sun
the waning weather.
the candle snuffed out by ice.
my summer swan song.
cheap shots
the barbed cutting words.
the forked tongue of red devils.
people who can’t do.
journey man
begin from the end.
as dawn turns toward dark dusk
so to the journey.
short sands
slippery fingers
cannot hold the sands of time.
grasping at short straws.
reign down
spikes of soft wet rain.
reaching back towards heaven.
reigned down upon us.