I keep getting
Winded
From the hurt
Which steals
My breath

When running fast
Toward safeties
Where a past
Does not
Exist

Through air
With better
Hopes
Like oxygen
Come tomorrow

In bursts
Enough
For sprinting
Away from
Dreaded death –

What stretch
Or old expanse
Has feelings
Real
But crazy

Pursuing
Fate relentless
As I race
And challenge
Fear

Without
That beating heart
To sustain
My brisk
Momentum

Driven
By sheer
Exposure
To pressures
Hardly new,

As failures
Trail
My path
Dragging pain
Behind me

Holding down
My answers
Or chance
To up
And leave

Even if
This weight
Was a weak
Yet obvious
Reason

For losing
Before I finish
Across
That line
I’ve drawn.

– J. Pigno

Poems
Are self-contained
Within minutes
Felt excessively
As a shy
And idle genius
Of the mind
Which takes
Its time –

This process
Drawing shapes
Around moments
Lacking patterns
In themselves
Containing reasons
For forms
That go
Unseen

When savoring
Endless days
Pursuing gifts
Unnoticed
From corners
Hiding shadows
Like cracks
Between our lies,

Where truths
We cannot speak
Hold meaning
Through their darkness
Keeping proof
Clandestine
Of the God
Who bleeds
These words

While quiet
Does persist
For a daze
Which ushers answers
Down aisles
Walking freedoms
Among what colors
Drift

As the image
Bearing voice
Of their scene
Which keeps repeating
Captured once
Forever
By our bored
And patient
Peace.

– J. Pigno

My heart
Will slowly weaken
And flutter
From disappointments
When dreams
Are mere conditions
For love
Which has no pulse

As currents
Without their source
Keep running
On wired purpose
Through circuits
Bound to envy
What power
Is flowing free

In bodies
Bravely charged
By flesh
Of blessed feelings
With touch
Of rare conductors
Whose role
Is staying lit

Like lightning
Always strikes
At the core
Of open meanings
So the burn
Of honest passions
Are sockets
Soon to plug

Our wishes
Needing breath
Before
These answers fizzle
And fade
Beyond redemption
Allowing bulbs
This chance

Between
Their flashing death
And short
That’s coursing gently
Across
Such broken passage
Within
My faulty switch

To brighten
Burdens bare
As truths
Expressed innately
Stifled whole
Inside us
Since hurt
Leaves fate untold

Thanking youth
For choice
And faith
To never falter
Though time
Develops symptoms
Of change
Which darkens hopes.

– J. Pigno

I live for
Summer rides
Biding my time
At rest stops
Dropping
Cash at delis
Waiting
For crowds
To pass

Leaving
No trace behind
As shadows fade
Through ashes
Like sand
In August sunlight
Now bathed
Through hands
Of dawn

Across this
Jersey Cape
At the end
Of asphalt kingdoms
Where highways
Are those castles
Of fantasies
Near
And warm

Blasting
In the back
A sudden sound
Now wailing
St. Janis
As she’s praying
Her voice
A reckless
Ghost

Guitars
That sultry ring
Within this
Speeding cabin
In pursuit
Of lost directions
Where danger
Has no
Course

Near beaches
While we stay
With ghosts
Of lives
Once mattered
Grabbing hands
When passing
The pier
Which held our
Kiss

Vaguely
Spelling secrets
On winds
Of whispered
Daydreams
So memories
Bound to kill us
Reveal
Their final wish –

Hell
If I could care
As moments
Far too perfect
Like these
At Exit Zero
Remind me
How I’m
Home.

– J. Pigno

Accept me
As you will
For the fact
I cannot
Kiss you

Refusing
To relinquish
This white
And broken
Face

Without
That loving gaze
Which time
Has kept
Despondent

Where eyelids
Sagging gently
And mouth
Curved slightly
Down

Evokes
That empty stare
Of a tried
Yet broken
Figure

Cracked
Across its forehead
From years
Of sheer
Misuse,

Delicate
Though I wait
For the hands
Which seem
To cherish

And cradle
This lifeless body
To imbue me
With some
Soul

Despite
What questions
Sit
In a silence
Holding secrets

As the damage
Bearing answers
Is a closed
And static
Dream

When one day
I may speak
From the warmth
You long
To give me

And build
Our tiny model
With tables
Wood
And real –

Chairs
Made for
My joints
Immobile
But resilient

Reaching
As they suffer
To enjoy
Such hollow
Toys

Pretending
This small world
Will hold me
Whole
Yet fragile

Glued
Much like
My smile
And pain
You cannot mend.

– J. Pigno

Upon these
Broken railways
Is the train
Which chased
Old moons

Beyond
That gravel passage
With steel
Laid down
On top

Tracing
Darkened veins
Across
This empty
Landscape

Where paths
To absent stations
Are lies
Of phantom
Tracks

Across
Their eerie sprawl
Outside
What home
Is vacant

But lit
From silent visitors
Who dwell
Inside
Those halls

As wisps
Of lingering pasts
Within
Each restless
Vision

That’s bright
Yet somehow missing
Clear forms
And distinct
Shapes

Recalling
Days well lived
While time
Did not
Expire

When rides
And cotton candy
Were dreams
And fate
Enough

Enjoying
Daily suns
Like pleasure
Of staying
Innocent

Remaining
Barely hopeful
In the wake
Of outside
Worlds

Those shadows
Still their
Ghosts
Now cries
Pursuing vengeance

At the risk
Of seeming
Angry
Near abandoned gates
They haunt –

No zoo
Or quiet park
Can keep
One young
Forever

No theater
Built for leiusre
Will last
Like aging
Film

Despite
The ones who tried
Amused
By being
Clever

Perplexed
Their special
Purpose
Is immortal
To a point

For crowds
That came
And gone
Through an arcade
Missing buttons

Are the only
Relics standing
After learning
Cash
Claims all.

– J. Pigno

To you
This ground does
Breathe
As it pulses
With being
Steadily

Like a heartbeat
Pushing through
Pathways
Beneath soil
Which exhales
God

Drawing
Its fate
From our source
Where the distance
Between us
Narrows

Entwined
As these colorful
Branches
Of a living
And moving
Tree,

Where winds
Bear hues
Of our touch
And music
Assumed
From existence

Filters
Patterns inherent
Beyond
What lines
We might
See

So the hidden
But tangible
Charm
Of such clear
And present
Divinity

Imbues
Our limited
Transience
With a brief
Yet cosmic
Gasp.

– J. Pigno