I’ve lost
What words remain
In this dull
And somber white
Which builds
Through raw
Indifference
My vague
Yet growing chill

That speaks
Like stoic snow
With a blank
Yet real expression
Of such bare
Though humble
Willingness
To confess
These sudden flakes

As a storm
Not wholly armed
By those winds
And glacial padding
Which lord
Their cold
Disinterest
Over phrases
Nearly warm

Believing
Fires wane
Where this wood
Is always dampest
For the time
Our phrases
Stumble
Among chances
Dark as night

Where stars
And other light
Find God
Between each
Sentence
Like truths
From barest branches
Or a meaning
Meant to last

When our fear
And broken wish
Of that lush
But bitter landscape
Falls softly
On this passage
While the deer
Escape
Its wrath

Chasing
Empty paths
Pursuing dreams
Unwritten
As each poet
Faults
Their maker
For losing hope
Beneath

Shoveling
What is said
Like digging
For some answer
During winters
Uninspired
With a whimper
Old
And weak.

Those tracks
Cannot be seen
As the air
Blows ice
Unwilling,

No soul
Or frigid whisper
Can find
My voice
That’s stale.

– J. Pigno

I won’t even
Try to hide
These changes
Growing evident
By a smile
Held inside me
Since the moment
You said yes

Despite
Those nervous claims
Out of fear
Our hurt should linger
Where pasts
Are always waiting
For their reason
To exist

And conquer
Second dates
While the chance
Of nearly winning
Is a triumph
Come acceptance
By the cost
Our losses chance

Threading
Common fates
From the tears
Which bargain service
At the beckon call
Of angels
Whose challenge
Brings us life

Out of grace
We can’t deserve
Despite such
Woven pictures
On horizons
Fading quickly
And approaching God
Possessed

Repeating
Choices made
So our failures
Learned as lessons
Are the mouthpiece
For these answers
Which secure
This happy home

Before
It’s even saved
From a dream
We can’t be certain
Is a night
Beyond that moment
When a kiss
Brought futures bright

Through stars
Within our midst
Among these scenes
Victorious
Convinced that love
Has endings
Like films
Shot by mistake.

– J. Pigno

What is loved
Always ends
In tears
For the sake of us
Learning
We’re worth it

Through each pain
And collected
Experience
By a sum
Of incredible
Chance

Just knowing
Our moment
Passed
To create
That expanding
Division

At a distance
Hinged
On emotion
Which elicits
Truth
From our hearts

For the turn
Such minds
Can’t grasp
Across decades
Gapped
With decision

Where freedom
Forces
Our nature
As a circumstance
Damaged
By time

To delude
Those emotions
Wished
Were expressions
Bound
For repeating

While believing
Dreams
Of our leisure
Are the answers
Held
Near death

Assuming
One final
Breath
Between hope
And a future
Wasted

Are the lies
We’ve tried
In question
Out of fear
Of truths
Untold

Like a tide
Most souls
Can’t wade
But instead
Fall deep
When choosing

These differences
Called
By religion
As our testament
Written
For man.

– J. Pigno

These days
Are short in number
From the time
Our minds can
Realize
All worry
Is a wasted effort
Which hastens
Nothing
But pain

Despite
How hearts can change
Over spans
Of years
Turning decades
Into journeys
Riddled with failure
That is purpose
Taking
Its toll

From balance
Playing our parts
As agony learns
What we witness
Is sacrifice
Making us
Better
To admire
Death
As a whole

Like deer
Within endless woods
Quiet
Content to be waiting
For their hunter
Bound
To be killing
Such fragile
Souls
That are weak

Upon faith
With gentle hooves
Among leaves
So fallen
And desparate
To be one
With this ground
Below them
As they struggle
Through colorful bliss

Proving
Hurt doesn’t end
As loss
Is a season
Grieving
Where beauty
Is cyclically
Fated
By nature
Alive but brief.

– J. Pigno

It wasn’t
Until many years
Later
How I realized
You meant
Every word

Each gesture
Wave
And confession
In the hands
Which spoke
As they shook

While you emoted
Loud
On their stage
For approval
If not
Reassurance

From the ones
Who’d never
Accept you
Even after
I told
They would

Acting
Like someone
May care
When your daily
Speech
Met with laughter

For the ears
Then straining
To listen
At a genius
Not knowing
They should

Like mine
Now admitting
This sin
For a friend
Whose place
Is conviction

Understood
As hope
For the kindness
Lost only
To hearts
Without faith

To remind me
God is not
Vain
When belief
Is a certain
Affliction

Like appearing
Weak
Or unsettled
To an audience
Begging
We stop

Judging
These roles
That we play
As childish
Games
Of forgiveness

For the ways
We seek
Our fulfillment
Through a wish
Of such fantasy
Made

And our failures
Young
But inane
As this chance
Which brought us
Together

Letting you
Know
I appreciate
That fact
How you always
Were there.

– J. Pigno

All
The wrong ones
Reign

For their bow
Or grandest
Gesture

To preserve
Such fragile
Egos

Like glass
Which always
Breaks

And reminds us
Love
Won’t wait

For that gold
With diamond
Chalice

Still holding
Wine
Transparent

As this
Monarch
Taking sips-

Proving
Some might
Claim

How their liquor
Seems
Sufficient

When believing
Crown
And crystal

Are a worthy
Gauge
Of cause,

But our grail
Of honest
Kings

Still cracked
From being
Decent

Abounds
Where drops
And torment

For the sake
Of keeping
Dust

Lays sacred
In its
Vase

So the poor
May have
Their supper

Or a chance
At finding
Glory

Near this well
As dry
As bone

From a leader
Proud
Yet parched

Who preys
On weakest
Servants

Quenched
By tears
Of nothings

Contained
Within his
Grasp.

God
Where God
Is man

And stone
For those
Who question

Yet flesh
As much
As many

Who walk
This kingdom
Come.

– J. Pigno

It’s terrible
How we destroy
Without effort
Or even
Perceiving

These smallest
Creatures among us
Whose existence
Proves
We are wrong

When swerving away
Though they run
Hitting some blind
As they
Scramble

Across roads
Which kill them
Regardless
Of the steps we take
To avoid

What sin
Does inevitably last
By virtue
Of us
Merely knowing

That cars
Are a weapon
Indifferent
To a scenery
Teeming with God

Littered like trash
Or a bag
On trees
Which catch us
Admitting

Such thoughts
Are a selfish
Prediction
Of a fate we’ve sealed
In our rush

Toward progress
Vapid and null
As that empty
Dream
We’re pursuing

Disturbing birds
While they chirrup
From nests
Knocked down
For a house

Displacing lives
Among waste
Where our futures sit
Near this
Footprint

Of tire tracks
Bloodied and careless
On our way
To work
Where we speed.

– J. Pigno