Show up to the page…

Jane was an artist of the skull and bone

I was a beast in his lair

pining for an old ghost to placate

some new wolf of despair.

she married the man of her dreams

they moved to the east coast

she organized her workspace, found the ghost

life settled to what it would become

And Jane drew skulls

she drew what the skulls

drew out of her

I just wanted mine to return & engage

I prayed for the gates to swing wide

for the self-imposed flame to end its rage

for the rivers to return

what they could not hide

Jane drew skulls complete

She never told

what they drew out of her

waylaid, replete 

there was no way to commit

lesser eyes with more to see

I found the match to strike an inner flame

and the burning: again and again

I just show up to the page, Jane said

it’s never on time and I’m never

there when it needs me

but there’s something to be said about

hearkening back, about letting it bleed

sketch the world on a disappearing slate:

tabulae rasa

and the apocalypse conflate

just show up to the page

avail what’s not there

you will just find more reasons

to burn down the stage.

-2020. East of Los Angeles, Califas.