Seek n Hide

​In my actual space I, 

carrying a flashlight, virtually,

stumble in darkness,

feel the edge of a work desk

for direction,

cut my hand on its

chiseled existence,

and call it poetry and justice.

It must be the apocalypse,

for it remains hidden,

the desk,

its writing instruments,

and its intent...

But, in time, maybe tomorrow,

when it starts to rain,

I may author the Bible.

I seek a virtue amongst

the long shadows on my desk, 

the sarcastic ink bottle

I hardly use,

and within the pile of

forgotten music notes,

I search for songs and sin

to find light, write the Psalms.

-- Leslie 

Light Banter With The Bulb

​In between a siesta

and a night slated for grammar,

I find a canyon

to banish the scripted emails, 

as punishment.

Many remain in obscurity there,

others return after sunset,

and remind the dwellers

of Nazareth,

words are immortal.

The subject lines who made it,

and ​the woefully inadequate boy,

dance on a wooden stage,

the rickety scaffolding,

creaking under the 

weight of expectation.

It is night now,

the light bulb says mockingly,

singing ​a ​glowing tribute to normalcy,

but ​a ​long shadow lurks

just beyond his narrow mind,

bolted like my front door.

It keeps the couriers out,

food slips in; 

thoughts and vision hardly do,

the essential commodities, desolately so.

-- Leslie Xavier