Without knowing my future,
there is this and that,
a gentle executioner
set to emerge from the shadow.
Living will be a thing of the past.
My footsteps have been measured.
Whether I go north or south, east and west,
a gentle executioner lies in wait.
The clock is ticking.
Luminous skies grow dim.
The bells are ringing.
The alley cat is down to two lives.
The gentle executioner never sleeps.
SHORT A DOLLAR
Break up with the life
that will not let you sing.
This is the time to
live life like you want to.
Others live in comfort.
I’m short a dollar.
Yesterday, I was short
a dollar and last week
too. This poet does
not expect riches.
I have many
poems. Crazy ones and
serious ones. Moon
and sun poems. Who can
forget the star poems?
I stand in my eyes and
watch heaven blurry.
I keep the light low to
imitate dark skies.
I’m short a dollar.