Outliers
 
With the sky a thick blanket of gray,
the clouds a solid chain of water vapor
and not the wispy collage of a mostly sunny day
gathers a flock of blackbirds, 
landing atop the stalks and drooping heads
of dying sunflowers in the ever emptying field,
a social group not unlike chaps in a crowded pub, 
their conversation lively and dynamic
with some breaking ranks, 
turning attentions inward, 
moving to the edge of the field, 
neither anxious or conventional, 
these outliers, 
they stand proud and firm, 
ignoring the coercive and hen like calling
of their brothers,
evermore convicted of their disposition.
 
 

Zombie

Pieces of sleep, knit together in my bed
My cob-webbed pillow the foundation
of many a mirage.

The movie of the mind alive

Some nights the mad gloom
cloaked with dust, punctured by plaintive 
howls of the undead.

The movie of my mind alive

With the tendency to battle the
unthinkables, attack the devils
with spoons while I am very much away

Welcome to the movie of my mind
that you are here too -- means
the blood, cool now, flowed out, 

welcome to the other side
of my bed.