Pablo Cruise Poems

Down the Northwest Angle cross the brow of the Boundary’s claim
The northern wanders with no less purpose, than what it brings
Toward the River Valley from off The Mighty Range
In days gone short of purpose, it’s time for premonitions and lore
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You could have been whatever I yearned
But the words were never cared
I fell short in so many ways
Countless crosses I must bear
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Willow

Gentle quiver on that luminous verge
The echo of your beauty twice seen
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The Wedge

Tapered edges opposed in form
A mordant face to drive it home
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Communing in the corners
Under chairs and desks where the neglect remains
Vagabonding cross windows with the light to guide your way
It’s the stillness that’s your solace
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Callused spirit in declining coil
Bended back as if he knows
Skin creased from fended toil
A cane to stress the pose
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Do you remember the calls home from behind the screen?
When our days were full of anything
Skinny, brown, half clothed without their consent
Feet as black as slate
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Carousel

Pondering horses on circular courses
A purpose with nowhere to go
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Fractured lines half realized
From where to lips to pen
Dead poets mind to spill a page
Flesh the colors from my skin
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White comes the horse
In my darkest need
Inside myself you beckon
Please, come take the lead
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