Scott J. Shepard

He was a minimalist.
Like a sky without any stars,
a town busied by each our ghosts
or aims to breathe in a basin wide.
...

The longhand words etched,
metallic in color
lined themselves across vertical concrete,
faces tilted,
...

A ghost gone uphill bends my ear softly
whispers wearily "so help me God".

This. the construct of each institution I enter.
...

If life were some digital thing,
if the world was the mainframe
and the scenery, these AGP,
peripheral processing machines.
...

Even I know there are a hundred billion stars in the night sky
but you'd say perspective is an invisible concept,
no matter how many truths come to me in my dreams.
You're not as invisible as you think you are
...

Stop it! Hold it right there,
I know the feeling that comes unrequited
when love is at its ends.
...

Its ten o' clock mass,

a priest has an exchanging of words,
first with God, than with man,
...

If I were in pain
If there was not still something
...

There! The evolution of the voice
is off the ritz and springs the wire.
A trip is an anomaly to the
Metropolitan.
...

We question ourselves to be
mad libs while a double blind study
fills our mouths with
blanks.
...

To be in a world where
it's limbo cultures the real world
to be on its brim-
...

Heavens apprehension took toward the
temperament placings of a Dove.

Disposition lies in a grave yard.
...

Sadly,
A view that was
unable to walk on,
was a watchtower unable to
...

There was some sort of power provided to us
before we knew we had any at all.

A hegemonic hierarchy of invisible will
...

The imperfect absence of perfection
brought an infinite spectrum to possibility.

What it meant to exist in this early rising
...

If any metaphor so amour propre
had made one a believer, so then let it be love forever.

Any of love's languages worn like the coats of
...

To the Apollo Archetype, a colorful remark
was never half bad.

He had managed to skip a beat.
...

The line outside the soup kitchen,
a chilling Monday's meal.
A few young scholars, a mother
and child, the usual flock and crew.
...

No longer will I be this weapon of war
Save me for the arsenal
Here in this place you see me snarl
As I cry for the baby lamb
...

They took cover
The mud and stone
A barracks filled with clay
...