dedicated to a fictional man named Robert Joyner


he lived the way it snows in mid-October

when the slivers of the moon float down from the clouds

into the transparent haze that we call the atmosphere


but the thing about October snow

is that it dances before our eyes, taunting us for the cheer of winter

yet it disappears into the earth 


like the bones of a broken man

who’s threads stretched for much too long

 until the all broke

and hung at his sides in deep red glory


but near a little corner store and a barn

in nowhere new york

his bones aren’t buried and the scars are gone

because a little girl and boy dance by his side

in the dirt where they once cried.


and if you listen very closely

you can hear a whisper

of the adventure to come


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