Discounted Poetry

The humidity Is dripping off my stubbled face In slightest arcs encouraged By the breeze between My open windows. I kill the engine And wait.  Some years are darkest tears, And some are brightest comedy.  I ruled you out completely Till your fingers found me Yesterday.  - 7/2/25

The bloom of fire On the sand horizon Reminds me of your tenderness. That life is memory As fantasy, A million years And lands from blood And guns and targets Speaking gibberish And likely hiding death. They shot my friend A week ago. He screamed until his agony Became the ambience, The scrapping constant. I am not convinced You ever crawl, Escape, Return from this. - 7/1/25