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Joe Cabrera

Writing by Lightning

As a child
Certain skies would brighten me
Ransacking the most remote back-alleys
Of my imagination.

Some nights when the sky would explode
Into a dainty parade of bolts
And knock down silently captivating saplings
I would let the celestial blitzkrieg
Provide final form for my vitally molding mind
Making me thunderously bright.

I have since grown up in annual fragments
Occasionally I feel the revivifying enlightenment
Of a brainstorm
That's only the allowance of my creative firepower.

For the most part I can no longer withstand the shock
Of reverie that a wick of electricity generates
And every impulse to look up at heaven's lid

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Love and Err

Open you up
Read you over
Carry you with me
Everywhere I go

Take you to bed with me every night
Hold you in my hands
At the place where you are bound
Fill my head, spellbind my mind
I might wear out your spine sometimes
But I could never put you down

Disentangle my hands
Like threshing oars
Enmeshing more
With the dizzying waves of a lunar storm ocean
Gravitational pull is warring
But the inner whispers of warning
Insist on restoring
This uniform motion

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Featherfall

When my place in the firmament
Becomes permanent
I cannot help but wonder
What others will have to say

'He wanted to be a journalist
With his being he yearned for this
Set about that sojourn of his
But endured a bit of turbulence
Along the way

And so he arrived here
And we're gathered here today

In-laws, outlaws, surrogates and termagants
We lost a good man
Loved strongly by those around him
Tonight we sing in praise of God
It's a shame he never really found Him.

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Sew the Seams of a Poet's Dreams

The hours and minutes
Of our minuscule existence
Are like a road map unto death
Estimated time of arrival
No one exactly knows, do you?

Time is not a race
Though material gain is
We maintain the same pace
Until the spiritual sprain hits
But we're heading to the same place
And there's only one direction you can go, do you.

As we wind on down the path
From itch to scratch to scab
With pits of ashes in our past
And smokestacks on the horizon just asking for a match
Appeased desire is the only means to ceasefire.

Freights carrying fate barreling fast

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