Home Alone

I

Lizards throw scurrying

Shadows, the walls stretch endless

They have far to go.

II

We seek redemption

Or something close to it, at

Street corners, all alone.

III

The slow crawl of hours

The creeping minutes of night

The long wait to dawn.

Monsoons Arrive

Musty smell

Of mossy sheen, like

Another skin

Growing, over

Nights and days, monsoons

Arrive, late.

The Memory Book

This landscape of memory,

And the portrait of one

Posing forever, frozen

In some sepia world;

The margins cleared

Of remembered words,

A text of desire paginated

Into an easy understanding

Of the wise ways of the world,

Hard-bound now against

The despoiling of time;

Crisp pages, each

Chaptering new moments

Whirled in continuum

Of infinite whiteness

And traces of ink

Scribbling away

New lines about

Old die-hard tales.