Our wishes climb
on snowflakes,
reaching for distant stars—
my frozen breath
...
In a candlelit forest
I sketch the faces
of ancient trees...
my brand-new notebook
...
fortune teller...
the lights of a distant train
shimmer on the rails
...
I see myself in her,
yet, she is nothing but stone
at the bottom of a dark well
in the rain
...
In a blooming garden
old gnomes tinker
with the broken mechanisms
of a dead man’s pocket watch…
...
Evaporated sin
rains from bloodshot clouds
to touch me again—
my reflection appears
...
Reading the graffiti
on the walls of my old house—
how easily
my childhood chalk art
...
Strings of stars hang
between abandoned skyscrapers…
like the web of a long dead architect’s
imagination,
...
her poetry whistles
like nightmare winds,
painting the black sound of screams
on an already dark canvas
...
Chase Fire is a young poet from Michigan, who all writes short forms. His work has been published numerous times.)
Climbing
Our wishes climb
on snowflakes,
reaching for distant stars—
my frozen breath
mixes with hers