PALACE In this darkness I have longed, yet only now do you approach beneath my canopy of sentinels. Wordless, though I have screamed centuries for you. Guileless, though now indeed you have been warned. I shall devour your pretenses; leave shorn your bravado. I am your beast, and under granite columns shall you be reborn. …
SWORN I thought you would follow, but the willow reed swallowed me whole At least that’s the excuse you sold… I’d been too busy tightening bolts Preparing for traffic that would never come. On the opposite end of nothing now I’ve teetered upon this sharp edge far too long Waiting for that willow reed to …
Refuge; before these iron gates I tremble. Words, long forgotten, muttered upon this unforgiving draft. Weary fingers graze lips; memory languishes. A song cries. Lost, what once remained. Balm to my wounds, these iron gates I clutch. To twist this handle, to enter into that which I have denied myself… A thousand angels mock my …
PAINT-BY-NUMBERS Little girl, you shoo the gargoyles standing sentinel watch within my heart and allow me to ride white fluffed unicorns alongside you; you, my elegant, eternal sunshine. You erase the horror from my world and fill my soul with rainbow hues of paint-by-numbers. © Copyright 2014 Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.
OF A DARKER ART Got hell in mouth Devil on tongue Voodoo mama on brain Demon in heart. Dig bones from dirt Bury spleens in hearth Keep gris-gris round neck Darkness never part. Never sell this spell But steal your charm Tongue flick tail rattle, baby Yeah, snake round arm. But hell in mouth Need …
MOLD I saw you there; in the half-light of candle you seemed a flickering wraith but the pruned expression with which you regarded me only served to extinguish me further. I wished to reach out, to reshape the face I once recognized but clay only hardens if left to serve testament to air. © Copyright …
HEARD Silence; a river running through my head; train cries in the distance its solace muffled much the way I am unable to find my tongue. Fog clouding the window—it’s unbearable but the droplets streaking the glass expose highways, crossroads the likes of which I’ll never have the nerve to explore. Still in my head …
I‘m fuzzy at the edges while you scrape sharp lines at each of my corners. I try to protect myself but still you find a way around my childproof barriers. A chord is struck each time your mouth twists and I feel toddler small— spanked in self-serving lessons of obedience, cheeks reddened; chest heaving with …
Ye who plant the seed shall burden the responsibilities of the fruit; yet I suffer the toil of a heart long laden of dirt. Grown useless, gnarled, I twist now under the rising gale of wind; you are a storm that shall never crest. How I crave for my roots to be severed, transplanted to …
I can’t believe that my daughter is nearly a month into first grade. It seems like only yesterday that together we took a walk to her future elementary school. She was only three years old then. She sported a Tinker Bell hat atop her head and wore a Cookie Monster backpack – practice for ‘when …
Joseph A. Pinto 