Christopher Parcels

It's a blue moon tonight,
natural rarity, natural beauty,
magnetic force,
yet I resist.
...

I ripped open your envelope, tore
open old wounds, transported back
to a time when foresight was occluded
like a warm-front straddling the Adirondacks:
...

Your shirt clings like love
as purple clouds purse their lips
to hide from us the universe.
...

It was Walter Cronkite, wasn't it, who said,
'And that's the way it is, ' at the end of the show,
safe in the knowledge he had done his job well
and standing by for all the other things
...

Her laughter echoes through the night;
it comes to me from far away.
But sound is lonely without sight
of her whose face puts wrongs to right.
...

After the last funeral dirge
we melancholy crowds emerge
from one more memorial Mass.
Upon each one falls hard the urge
...

The leaves are greener on a rainy day,
a world of darkness given a new light.
There is no chance to push my pain away
as you creep closer toward the quiet Night.
...

After a day of paper cuts and daydreaming
about being buried by Conversation Hearts
(the one that flattened me was faintly imprinted:
HOW NICE) , I sit now to write on love.
...

I spent the evening cleaning up reflections
that were scattered, shattered on the bathroom floor.
I tried my hand at the reunification
of yeterday and today, of myself and the world.
...

Three below zero-
sunrise. The platform.
I breathe my scarf
and spit to remove
...

Outside my northbound train, clouds are dawn's undoing.
My window-gazing is too speed-blurred to note
passing puddles; I would like to judge
how fervent are the raindrops.
...

Needy? A weakness.
I will not admit that I
am lonely down here.
...