poems

I steal one glance over my shoulder as soon as we are far from the foreboding luminance of the neon glow, and it is there that my stomach leaps into my throat. Squatting just shy of the light and partially concealed by the shade of an alley is a sinister silhouette beneath a crimson cowl, beaming a demonic smile which spans from cheek to swollen cheek.

Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were. But without it, we go nowhere - Carl Sagan

History doesn__ start with a tall buildingand a card with your name written on it, but jokes do. I think someone is takingus for suckers and is playing a mean game.

Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lostmemories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreamsplay when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?

PeterSwirling dreamsDragons knewTouching life to winDeep inside many other worldsWhere should we begin?

Devil__ WishA bowl of spellsSwirls a mixSmoke and bubblesSeek the fixYoung boy's eyeAnd fever fewWitches grassSome mandrake root

My VoiceDreamt a dream of dreams,lucidOne word birthed another,othersStill deeper beyond time,infinite spaceOne bled into another,one dancedTwisted tight, for dear life, embraced windsDarkness, out of sight burned, wept my mindInto a new frontier, frameless portraitsIn defiance, out of the ash, rose my voiceKaleb Kilton (c) 2016

_ and now and then we could look up and give each other a thought, because I think he could have beautiful thoughts,and we could just let each other be less lonely in our loneliness.

I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)

oh. she heard it too-no waters coursing, canyon empty, sun soundless- and the beast your life nowhere hiding (p. 103)

...gripping the rim of the sink you claw your way to stand and cling there, quaking with will, on heron legs, and still the hot muck pours out of you. (p. 27)

blue-gold sky, fresh cloud, emerald-black mountain, trees on rocky ledges, on the summit, the tiny pin of a telephone tower-all brilliantly clear, in shadow and out. and on and through everything everywhere the sun shines without reservation (p. 97)

Raindrops fall from clouds of gray.The fragile flowers grow.Teardrops seem all I can say.They speak of endless woe.Your fingers wipe my grief away.A seed of love you sow.A hardened heart reverts to clay.You mold my love just so.

i want the moon tattooed on my wristsmy grandmother keeps asking me to pray, i don__ have the heart to tell her that mypoems are the only God i have left in memy mother keeps leaving without saying goodbyei wish she__ let me cut my hair in the 7th grade,maybe i__ know how to deal with loss by nowi told myself i__ stop kissing boys who didn__ know my namei said, i__ stop picking at my bones like broken decorations,i__ quit with the smoking and the drunken poems, and when i said things like __y bones are heavy_ i would only mean itas a good thingheavy bones can__ be broken,you can__ break heavy bones

When you left you left behind a fieldof silent flowers under a sky full of unstirred clouds...you left a million butterfliesmid-silky flutters You left like midnight rain against my dreaming ears Oh and how you left leaving my coffee scentless and my couch comfortless leaving upon my fingers the melting snow of you you left behind a calendar full of empty days and seasons full of aimless wanders leaving me alone with an armful of sunsets your reflection behind in every puddle your whispersupon every curtain your fragranceinside every petal you left your echoes in between the silence of my eyes Oh and how you leftleaving my sands footless and my shores songless leaving me with windows full of moistened moonlight nights and nightsof only a half-warmed soul and when you left... you left behind a lifetime of moments untouched the light of a million starsunshed and when you left you somehowleft my poem...unfinished. (Published in Taj Mahal Review Vol.11Number 1 June 2012)

You kissed me that morning as if you__ never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains tight around my chest,and if you see a fire from the shore tonightit__ my chains going up in flames.

What I want to know is how you go on when you look aroundand don__ see anywhere you want to go without the only personyou can__ have.

i smile. things taken for granted have a way of catching you offguard when you least expect it, and then you're taken by what the portuguese calls saudade, a sense of longing for something, someone not there anymore.