HEARSAY
From the 2016 Collection "Nickels and Dimes"
Curling black from crematorium stack,
tell me again the hoax of the soul.
The cowl paces,
pretends to be faceless,
swinging silver and wafting saccharine smog.
An aroma pleasing to the Lord,
better yet, a dessert for ghosts.
Little white wisps billow to the dome
and accompany the man to memory.
His noose was a pendulum,
intentional and stubborn,
insisting on it’s own etching.
But with hearsay,
sundry fates lie in one man’s wake.
From the 2016 Collection "Nickels and Dimes"
A collection of Juvenilia
