i. untitledI am a question…brash, impertinent, callow,taking all by surprise,a gunshot in the darkness.You are an answer…soft, smiling, responsive,drowning in honey,a sweet dew in the morning.Together we are an imperfect fit,the immiscible mixture,a rose of razor edges.I am not your question,you are not my answer.
ii. untitledThe street echoedwith a child’s screamand then…Silence.
iii. CarouselHorses frozen in mute agonywith nostrils flared and eyes of fright,turned to stone by unseen Medusa.Phantoms whirling and spinning,flying frightfully to music macabreas the world slips out of sight.Horses gallop faster, twisted in fear,’til they keep their pace no moreand sink into the swirling tornadoof music, mirrors, and machines.They twist to the tempo of terror,until the elusive Medusa once againsilences them into terrified statues.
iv. untitledcareful now, do not look upat the young faces suddenly old,twisted in long forgotten grief.the weight of the world restssuddenly on our shouldersand we heave heavy sighsand feel a bitter painin our sickened hearts.it is easy to forget sorrowand to tuck into memory,hoping it will fade away.it resurfaces againto remind of us of deathsomeday to come for us.