The white blanket
now ravaged–a victim of conformity,
lay wasted, heaped in a corner
of the cellar.

My only comfort in darkness now gone,
fatality to my own vices.
Vanity and greed, and lust–
lust.

The lust only found at a brothel
during midnight hours–where men
prance as packs of outcast lions.
And I alone in my room tonight

am left with nothing to cover these sins,
the sins of regret and vicarious nature;
sins even misplaced solace
could never cover in its brightest hour.

(c) Joshua D. Biddle

from across the mirror

(c) 2010 TAB

the rain falling in heavy sheets made me miss Florida
little rivers topped with kaleidoscopic grease poured by the sidewalk
i could not smell the venom in the air

somewhere a young samurai contemplates a rose in the Taisho period
he is wearing a business suit in the european style
and believes in factories and modernization