I can’t help
but notice
how a shadow
now outshines
the beauty
of a bloom.
Shadow is a thief
that steals form
from presence
making a likeness
from absence
and darkness
while upstaging
the original.
The sun is shadow's
accomplice
and like the poet
has the power
to embellish
and even exaggerate
all that it touches,
all that it sees.
FRANK’S PARACHUTE
He took his parachute off
when he started saying
what others
were afraid to say.
He fell through failure,
regret, and shame.
All his luggage
was left at home.
He had no plan
or torpedoes to damn.
The featureless water
beneath him
was all the mirror he needed
to know who he truly was:
a parrhesiastes,
unapologetically unpopular,
unequivocally and irrevocably free.
Like a moth on fire,
hissing and sputtering inside
its brilliant, beautiful flame.
