Spring // Sprung

Check // Mate

Outskirts
Outlaw in an up-skirt land
Hands-free heavy heart in
Fallow field beseeching the
Soulshine to
take root and heal.
Sealed into self-abnegating cells
foresight is fearful.


A thousand black crow's feathers beat incessantly
throwing dust into lacerated lucidity.
Masochistic mutilation of potential.
Indulgence in conceptual commodity
Holds me
      in check-mate,
Choking on instinct.


Cross-breeze etiquette:
Linger, but not last
Check-out in the gaze
out the window-
Looking out to look in.