David Johnson

If these walls could talk,
instead of standing tall and dumb like quiet white cliffs.
Not saying nothing, like quadruplets deaf, dumb and mute.
If these walls could talk, I'd be less lonely.
...

Gail force winds provide sails
with tension and thrust
to push the vessel through.
...

My heart beats heavy and faint.

my head pulsates with the feel of a fresh loss.
...

Early morning dew licks lavender lilies,
and they shine like purple wet tongues in the mornings first glow.

The heavy cloth of night has been lifted from the hills by a man on stilts, folded and layed behind.
...

The grass shivers on the hill.
The wind whips along its ridged spine
kissing each blade bending it back
like a dame at the ball.
...

I place four lit candles in four corners in one room.
I place two bent knees on two floor boards,
with two hands puzzled together clenched tighter and tighter
to try and lessen sins
...

At night,

the bed stands on all fours
chattering along its rails anticipating
...

I step out into the deepest, darkest night,
that I 've ever felt, but never truly seen.
Tonight I walk until the moon runs out of leash,
and waits for me at the tree line.
...

I'm alive here in this den.
This den that sounds of bears;
sleeping while the snows drift tall at the door
to show inches at the cracks of cold acheing night.
...

I fear the long and blackened night
I fear the fear in those in a battlefield fight
I fear that the general will advance the troops
and the hearts of the mothers at home
...

Here where leaves break a
weighted stem

There where hurried rivers
...

Candle in the dark
with your perfect step
I've wrote to you a poem
and down your side you've wept
...

Lying like dogs
tucked into the chin
escapeing the window
where the cold
...

The night is in bloom,
and the day has fled the scene,

My suit of flesh is hung up and away
...

When morning comes and one body is left in ruins,
from a night that swerved and crashed,
where no seat belt acting arm, hugged the shoulder, of he who holds intoxicated thoughts.
Past this morning's window sill, down the precipice of brick laughter is heard from strangers and dismissed as noise.
...

I first trace your mouth with my thumb.
The velvet lace of skin that finds nourrishment
when layed upon the lips of mine.
Your lips divide, delivering a candied voice
...

Alive, at what cost?
What strange steps these humans take.
My tired hand squeezes my tired face.
My eyes fall on black, and the darkness I taste.
...

When I have her,
the physical eats and stores the glow.

The night hums.
...

In my mind I cut out your shape
and attempt to gage your weight.

A small bag of meat your are, warm and full.
...

Your smile flicks a switch
that keeps me up at night.

Though the walls and air are black in here
...