I can turn water into wine
If we buy the winery
And others mash the grapes
And others tend to the vines.
Empty Joy
In the morning I can occupy my soul
With the day’s reasoned, written work.
Then comes the middle of each day,
A quick break from the pretense of joy.
I can’t fill the potholes in my brain,
Wet with the afternoon rain of despair.
I can’t enjoy the evening journey home
To an emptiness that is there.
Camera
Behind the walls
I want to sit alone
Behind the walls
Where no one visits
Where no one calls
Behind the walls.
Request
Don’t take away
My hope, my dreams.
Don’t celebrate
Your faulty schemes.
Snap
Mistakes were made
When I was young.
My neck is broken
Now I am hung.