We’re leaving
No pictures behind
But the liminal space
In our memories
With their negatives
Lost among pages
Where colorful days
Remain scrapped

As a privilege
Housing what stays
After moments pass
Even faster
Than these faded stills
Growing yellow
From time which dulls
Vivid scenes

And eliminates
Things often missed
Like minutiae gazed
Over decades
Turning background noise
Truly silent
Just to somehow speak
Yet again

Through that image
Caught between lives
Soon worlds apart
After aging
But becoming real
For mere seconds
Looking back on love
As it was

Having holidays home
Around stars
Over Christmas trees
Always glowing
Seeing kitchens filled
During evenings
Warmly tinted
When family arrived

Seeming bleak
Now polluted by light
Feeling far too harsh
Since recalling
How tomorrow’s pain
Barely warrants
Such photographs
Facing each sun.

• J. Pigno

You don’t know
How dour it is
To atone
Without any
Reason

Like my crucified
Childhood heroes
Who somehow
I slowly
Became –

These vestiges
Buried in thought
Building layers
Housed
Along bookshelves

Where memories
Stacked
Between covers
Are toys which fell
Over time.

They laugh at what’s
Being expressed
By this man
Behind
Shitty poems,

Not knowing
His life
Is a kid’s show
On analog screens
During sleep –

Never seen
But mocked
All the same
For those out there
Even watching

Since characters
Lost
Feeling youthful
Remain that truth
He believes,

Only swearing
Innocence fades
If accepting
Dreams
Are just different

Still writing
But feared
As ridiculous
When readers
Reset every game.

• J. Pigno

There are aisles
Dark in my mind
Where the days of joy
Stay remembered
Kept alone on shelves
Going dormant
As tomorrow
Feels tired again

Like that unknown gift
Left behind
From a Christmas
Long since forgotten
When adventure ruled
Every plaything
By their promise
Made possible then

Through daring feats
Over stairs
Atop bannisters
Climbing while ready
For one more scene
Needing danger
Along carpeted floors
Soon our stage

But become so real
For such time
Until jungles fade
Without notice
Letting innocence slip
Never knowing
Slowly withering
Watching us grow

Wishing simple games
Were enough
To imagine dreams
Still heroic
Letting failure haunt
Bitter futures
Missing plastic
Easily scuffed

How childhood hurts
If ignored
Having nightmares
Waking up jaded
Walking empty stores
Seeking figures
Now pretending
Life doesn’t suck.

• J. Pigno

I’m now that man
At their mercy
Who begs for days
Poorly spent
And another bad year
Facing hallways
With those whitest of lights
Blaring down

Losing holidays
Hospitals miss
But remain
Through few decorations
Each doctor hangs
Besides photos
Having families
Much better blessed

Just putting things off
Unexcused
Like a waiting room wish
Never fading
Until drugs kick in
Hitting tables
Where the magnets whir
Half-asleep

Not dreaming there
But restrained
From futures sought
Needing answers
When holding hands
In our foyer
Trading vows so real
They got sick

By remaining true
Even here
Under plastic screens
Growing heated
To remind us still
How such memories
Hardly care if time
Doesn’t pass

Since lives elapse
Between words
Across this mind
Chasing freedoms
Inside that tube
Taking pictures
Which prove again
No escape.

• J. Pigno

That evening sky
Like a scar
Across summer days
Turning purple
Would guide us back
During roadtrips
To the porch outside
Our hotel

Where orange clouds
Nearly burned
As their glow soon dimmed
Over cornfields
And marked such pain
Feeling longer
By bloodier dusks
Looming still

Like my fear inside
Easy youth
On those weekends gone
Growing worried
When time seemed slow
Eating ice cream
Watching futures creep
While we sweat

Missing crickets
Who sound far away
Or passing cars
Well behind me
As they traveled along
Empty hillsides
Leaving country towns
Unaware

But in this mind
Never lost
From wounded nights
Dripping sadness
Under heavens low
Feeling closer
Than death had nudged
Knowing peace

If faith endured
Though it won’t
Seeking recess now
Though each memory
Only real once more
Seeing sunlight
Fade beyond old rooms
Where I stayed.

• J. Pigno

There are cracks
Letting sunlight pass
Even where day
Doesn’t reach

Through the ruins
Of childhood mornings
Hiding plastic bins
Under stairs –

Another old spoon
Turning gold
From that cereal box
Nearly empty

Or my figures found
After moving
Besides novelties
Worth only dust,

With a bulb
Over basement steps
Guiding their path
Towards remembrance

Below creaking boards
Speaking softly
Such delicate whims
Calling haunts

Which chase me still
Going home
Since descending deep
Into memory

For one last bowl
Watching TV
While cartoons play
Better dreams.

Creeping shadows
Never quite change
Knowing innocence
Lives as our echo –

Those feelings real
Grown immortal
When time alone
Cannot hear

What specter calls
Beyond lies
And scares lost men
Thinking bleakly

How leaving toys
Means maturing
But instead just brings
Bitter ghosts.

• J. Pigno

There were days
Before every dream
Where empty space
Held their memory
Of fading halls
Hiding doorways
Where life itself
Remained still

And happier ends
Stayed a wish
Like hope long gone
Having surfaced
To explore such times
Become feelings
Slipping once again
Into dusk

Just beyond those walls
Turning beige
Or more unknown rooms
Filled with static
From cassette tapes found
Always playing
Only seen again
As we pass

Until hindsight yields
Deeper pain
Than any true fear
Could imagine
By sorrows recalled
Combing closets
For unopened gifts
Left behind

Packed away
Besides broken lights
Near fabric trees
Making echoes
As they brush our hands
Touching family
Keeping childhood real
Under dust

Calling out so loud
Seeking ghosts
Across basements dark
Growing lonely
Thinking home is there
Between shadows
Through that maze
Among faceless friends.

• J. Pigno

I dare you
Never to dream
Because hope
Defies expectation,

And fear
Resembles achievement
Closer than life
That we know –

A sullen belief
Always near
Never right
But somehow persistent

When gauging strength
During silence
Or our answer
Failing with faith,

Like the feelings
God must inflict
As importance
Comes from us changing

After facing days
Keeping quiet
Since more idleness
Offers such tests

For savoring
Things letting go
And forgetting friends
Barely noticed

Where times long gone
Stay remembered
Taking risks
Against what is loved.

Make sure
They grieve while alive
Being here
Though better off learning

Most every fate
Always falters
If chasing proof
Still unknown –

Much how words
Go unread
Out of tired pens
Growing certain

Their empty phrase
Misses meaning
Faking death
Before going home.

• J. Pigno

I’m asking still
For some hope
Despite how fate
Never answers
And defying God
In the process
Of seeking days
Better lived

Letting illness
Darken my way
Wishing miracles
Not really worthy
Could battle fears
Almost certain
Even heaven exists
Just to gloat

Where hell remains
Only sane
Seeing those removed
From what’s normal
Now enjoying pain
Always present
By agreeing
Happiness hurts

Since doubt consumes
All attempts
When trying hard
At forgetting
These simple needs
Merely human
Like a dream
With having some kids

Feeling bad
But keeping it real
Finding strength
Such anger inspires
Through experience
Denying things basic
Hardly blessed
But very secure

As us cursed
Are always denied
Daring death
Yet punished intently
Being artists
Honestly broken
Sickly speaking
Truth’s crazy words.

• J. Pigno

Let’s all look good
While we suffer
And die unknown
Staying gorgeous
From being alive
Only sometimes
When the sale price
Justifies breath

With tags still new
During use
Faking vintage dreams
In appearance
That elude our grasp
Always shopping
For one last deal
Never found –

That perfect match
Nearly gained
Until guilt outweighs
Further spending
Where appearance alone
Cannot salvage
An emptier fate
Dressing up

Since mirrors reflect
Even skulls
Whose souls enjoy
Always hiding
Seeing lavish threads
Adorn bodies
Which crave belief
As they thrift,

Though ensnared
Beneath bitter trends
Needing truth
Despite often buying
Such endless frills
Seeking meaning
Knowing chic
Is nature at last

Under shirts
Become merely rags
Learning God
Created us naked
Wishing flesh
Was much more accepted
Wholly vogue
Exposing what’s free.

• J. Pigno