ANGEL VANDALS Long wispy Cirrus fingers scratching the sky
As though Angels were keying the paint
On God's celestial blue Buick. LONELINESS

Tastes equivalent to a recurring nightmare
Sounds as though tomorrow will never arrive
Looks exactly like its identical opposite
Feels equal to an unkept secret
Smells the same as an unanswered prayer
It leaves me senseless. DANCER

It wasn't the motion
in her dance that moved me.
It was the stillness it choreographed in my soul.


Whether or not the Weather

We once loved under clear skies together
Later we grew, although toward different Suns
Now it rains all the time. More of Judge Santiago Burdon including his bio, interviews by various publishers, and poetry, can be read on his website at:
Judge Santiago Burdon