Bring on
the great devouring slumber.
Look at us, how we lumber
along the sidewalk like colossi
afraid of their own shadows.
The heat endows
the situation with a certain symmetry,
a kind of grace, and were we gracious
enough to accept it all
without prejudice…
That’s for another day, I say.
And really, the way the months
just roll along however pleasantly,
there’s no denying
we’re losing our footing,
and sooner or later,
apt to get tripped up a bit,
entangled in the movement
of season into season.
No time like the present
I was always told, to set your reason
on a proper course.
No time like the present
to drown my voice in yours.

-r. miller


O! the special smells,
frivolous colors of my half-steeped life.
With candor do I approach
the storm’s winking eye.

From here on out – fresh hell,
hand grenades, and a mouthful
of empty threats. I hold a promise
like a pose, beneath a clutter of sky.

My machismo’s started bleeding
from all angles, cooled to a crisp
beneath a blue emboldened star.
“How much farther?”

shouts the patience I never knew I had,
“until the next and final rest stop?”

-r. miller


Tonight, the normalcy heist
is underway. A cohesive city
sheepishly sways to the chamber music
pouring from the outmoded phonograph
buried in the Cosmos’ skull.
How grand and yet – how garish.
To cherish this is to invite the forces
of decay into our midst. At wit’s end,
you redact your name from salvation’s ledger
and enjoy a miniature freak-out
in the presence of friends.
Our way of life pays dividends, you know.
Show some class, for once,
and add that to the ever-lengthening list
of things that will eventually
come back to bite you in the ass.

-r. miller