Friggatriskaidekaphobic

The friggatriskaidekaphobic moves
me to pity so much I laugh the laugh
of vestal vultures, homeless houses, grooved
graves, of the blazing blues, of fires, giraffes.

Disaster

I met with Disaster along the way;
She looked about a thousand years of age,
And tall as mountain ash but blind and mute,
And nude, aside from diamond knee-high boots.

I must have met her many times in guise,
Perhaps with grief that hurts, with grim surprise,
I felt her in the scent of homeless cries, 
Or faint sadistic laughter of a brute.

I shook her hand despite the nameless rage
That wrapped my body fully like a suit
Of sweat and shakes shooting from wilted roots, 
That feast on acid deep inside my eyes.

Don't you demand from me consoling lies 
To help you sleep soundly beneath the skies
That birthed Disaster long ago one day,
And doomed us both to meet unknown, en route....

Rain

The rain must pour, the windows fogged; 
The gurgling cyclone spits and gongs
inside the bone-spring of acid 
where mucus seesaws up and down

The selfsame fountain feeds my eyes 
Aboil as conscience of a saint; 
or fish soup that prolongs the strain 
of homeless underneath the rain. 

Library at Night

A homeless man beside the library
His sleeping bones arranged to hungry dreams
Cracked lips that blow as if in ecstasy
And fingers holding fast the Bible dear
His starless head pushing against the wall 
A pencil 'gainst a broken sharpener. 

The Ghosts of a Room

When the moon shines red
And the darks cascade
When the length of room
Has become light years

When the ghostly hush
In the silence yawns
Through a hollow tune
With the breeze for tongue

Now compassion swoops
Through the cloud of tears
Down on injured hearts
Filled with lonely fears

Filled with homeless rage
And a scalding shame
And strangled with guilt
Of venom-clawed blame

Then compassion flies
With the hearts in beak
Over ruby lakes
What is there to seek?

Soon the wordless room
Breathes the scented dawn
Everything the same
But the dew-kissed lawn

Shoulds and ifs and whys
Never here reside
Outside the window
Of the room inside

Only lady bugs
And where grass now parts
There the earthworms romp
Wee-little, their hearts.

Devouring Silence

The suitcase of silence    
is veiled in black, in white; 
it tails behind on wheels 
that dance to earthy tunes, 
spinning at whim.... 

My carry-on contains 
displaced letters only.
Homeless in frozen air— 
How they blubber!

In the flying coffin,     
relics of past, hollow.
Meaning: I call poem
my home. 

I escaped with letters hostage,  
so I can be.  At last.
Alone.  I

fear devouring
silence.