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Kelly Vinal

The Man Without a Name

Deep within the chasm,
Lives the man without a name -
He’s come to represent
The secrets hidden in -
And so we, do we castigate
Those things not understood,
In culture and in worship,
In ideals and shades of skin

This society

Is it not hypocrisy
To cast as demons, if but only for
Subjective sin and character
Unlike our own -
If only I could exorcise
My coded prejudice, my DNA,
And pave a plane of equity
For our homogenous affinity -
And I would be the first

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Blinded Eye

Turn another blinded eye, oblivious
To cattail meadows strewn sea-to-sea -
Each stalk, brazed by arctic incursions
And baked by the sun in May.
Turn it over, the fortune card, reveal
What God has granted tomorrow -
A twilight storm or rolling foment -
Behind each prize-door,
Incontrovertible evidence
For your prosecution.

Turn another blinded eye, oblivious
To withered lake-front phantoms
Haunting shoreline stores - every
Ghostly voice of panic, unanswered on the
Glassy channels, just meters beyond
The undertow signs.
What is it that serves as your marker?
Your mentor? Your master? Your Maker?
Make your prize-door choices now -

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Ode to a Frozen Timepiece

I.
Funny now, the painted scenes of love abound
That stricken tick, persistent, pleasing measure
Done its final dance around, and now its final sound
To hills of shadows passing, glinting skies to eyes azure

II.
To you, my darling dove, oh tattered queen of yesteryear
There is no harsher justice, as the mountain snows recede
Possessed are we of sweet decrees, those locks of album hair
Cold and unforgiving Mistress, marking moments - do proceed

III.
Funny how the autumn leaves play floating in the valley stream
When yesterday they reached majestic to the thin and wispy sky
The dawn that was forever yields herself her precious time
As one-by-one our friends resign to overtones of where they lie

IV.
To the point of conversation, to the strange, conjunctive bind

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