Joe Marchia: Four Poems

Break:

certain things break my heart

like strings and wires strained and pulled

and cut and torn and worn until

it cannot hold the beating beast

and cracks in two for every piece

it breaks apart no longer full.

Holy, Holy:

From the clouds

the storm will pour

the sound of silent

rain on roofs

In one holy eye

the droplets form

a perfect thought

and to my ears

The noise fills

me with so much love:

the drumming sound.

A Dream:

a dream it always

wraps itself around the eyes

when we are still

and silence sits

with company

and acquaints itself with waking words

We are just between the past

and future always moving,

even sleeping

even dreaming

even waking

ever moving.

Anubis:

My life creeps like a shadow

on a funeral pyre.

Dancing, howling

'til Anubis awakes

and lays me down

gentle in gold.

He asks if the dead tire.

Bio:
Joe Marchia has been published in Instigatorzine, The Beatnik and Milk and Sugar Lit.