• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 01


Unwanted heirlooms, this
melancholy inherited
- I passed it on
along with discarded misfortunes
and empty cartridges of self-pity

My eyes bask in the glory
of finding themselves open
to the day, to dawn, to the stars
that follow the day down
to its crimson plunge and the trees

now undressed; the wind
that summons chimes and chances
(I've once been to a bridge
tied up with locks) and now
I find in me the part that's open

Like an envelope torn, a door or a can of beer
The letter, the hallway, the fizz
The words, the view and the thirst:

Pathways cleared by the fire of the new.