Bryan Riley Poems

The magic is gone
The song is done
I am as old as
the world is cold
...

Fallen angel at my feet
To what purpose have
you brought me here?
To look at this with
...

So what if the sky looks like
the ocean from here?
So what if I've never
been to New Orleans?
...

Living in the halls of the dead;
mouth and eyes filling with sand-
Cries and pleas for help go unheard
as birds of night with razored talons
...

In flight,
the figure loses
its form
The form loses
...

I have
weapons-
tons of
weapons.
...

Two friends in a van

not a van full of friends
...

Sea of green!
sea of green
locked between
the earth
...

I need some salt
to fill my wounds
In tune with every-
thing I've seen
...

Implements of a Murder:
The smoking gun,
the silken rope, and
other cliches
...