That glass
Between our hearts
Is always
The thickest mirror
With streaks
Of failed reflection
Preventing
Honest sight

As it sits
Atop this soul
Like sheets
Of dirtied crystal
Smeared
With best intentions
But clouded
From my past

When laying
Upon your chest
To feel
A certain weakness
Resembling
What comes after
That plight
Is shattered whole

Where ceilings
Bearing down
On questions
Causing madness
Bring answers
Oddly welcome
Through warmth
And grazing flesh

As truth
By shattered scars
Emerge
For meeting edges
While pressured
From resistance
To break
At slightest touch

In your arms
Not being sad
But fearful
Of these fissures
Like cracks
That make an image
Doubt
What picture lasts

Across
This fragile rift
Now seen
Within my likeness
Demanding
Solid shadows
Become
A fading ghost

So cheeks
Can really meet
And lips
Present their penance
For echoes
Undivided
Behind this mask
Which breaks.

– J. Pigno

We built
Our nuclear gods
And winters
In which they
Flourish

As nightmares
Oddly worshiped
With fears
Too real
To dream

When suits
And filtered masks
Are vestments
Built for
Service

At rites
Of raw destruction
We practice
Far from
Home

To carry
Raging storms
Across
This timid
Landscape

Toward churches
Growing empty
Where families
Pray
They pass

As agony
Looms en masse
Through clouds
Like burning
Vapor

Of mist that bears
Redemption
By cost
Called imminent
Doom

While truth
Of shattered glass
Depicts
Our shallow
Remnants

Like TVs
Blown
To pieces
As anchors
Tell us wait

Before
Each bomb erupts
Without
One final
Warning

Inside
Those tiny
Windows
Of signals
Leaving scars

Asking
How our faith
Can lead
To such
Acceptance

Of fallout
Seen as justice
On hands
Of equal
Men

Believing
Science saves
Instead
Of how it
Festers

Much like
What they tell us
Is deterrence
Safe
And good.

Kneel
Yet brace for change

Ignore
What’s coming
Later

That peace
Is killer gospel

For now
It’s Sunday
Mass.

– J. Pigno

Forever
Isn’t fiction
Where angels
Make their music

Across
That heaven waiting
Eternal
In our books

When songs
And stories dream
Of tales
Which stand immortal

Upon our heads
As victims
Of a finite world
We grasp

Like heroes
Playing fate
By answers
Poorly guided

Or judgement
Misdirected
So man can lose
His turn

To find how
God is real
If only love
Would fester

Among what sin
Grows softly
Between flowers
Near our hearts –

A garden
Not of fruits
But chance which longs
To question

Can divinity
Be created
As art
Will only fail.

– J. Pigno

These tears
Will only sting
When they linger
Long on lips

Like rain
From autumn mornings
Which whispers
Newfound cold

In a world
So oddly still
Of clouds
And fallen colors

Where winds
Hold quiet secrets
Of trees
That seem to burn

For reasons
Undisclosed
Amidst this
Solemn backdrop

Of grays
And gentle showers
With hints
Our season passed

While skies
Interpret heat
Not as sun
But pigments

Through shades
Of living palettes
When feelings
Show their hue

To mock
What leaves remain
Like cinders
Born of changes

Near wood
And barest branches
Whose flames
Are swept by gusts

Carried
Far away
Across this
Rigid landscape

Crisp
In solid contrast
To summer
Which came before

Reminding me
Our blaze
Should glow
If we allow it

Despite
What mist will trickle
From heavens
Keeping score

Indulging
Nature’s paint
Warm
Yet broken-hearted

This air
Still seems to harbor
A kiss
Of looming frost.

– J. Pigno

You saved me
From that place
Where the world
Was sad
And lonely

At a time
All other people
Would hardly
Know
I’m there

Believing
All my grief
Was a real
And suited
Prison

Until
That blind
Redemption
Like keys
Held in your eyes

Unlocked
What could become
One last
And sacred
Mission

To uphold
This dream inside me
When love
Still barely
Speaks

And conquers
With your grace
These fears
I choose
To carry

Like triumph
By experience
While tragedy
Makes me
Whole,

Stronger
Though I break
Against
What passion
Lingers

Imbuing
Raw connection
As truth
Which chisels
Stone

With compassion
As its source
And empathy
From our
Meeting

Conveying
How God festers
Within
Those souls
Who care –

Your smile
An open passage
That leads
To greener
Pastures,

Your words
A constant poem
Which quells
These demons
Bare

Exposed now
From my heart
As a rare
Yet simple
Message

How prayers
Are always answered
Even if
It’s far
Too late.

– J. Pigno

These spiders
Nest inside
Where the dark
And empty spaces
Hold webs
Instead of visions
Replacing dreams
I’ve lost

Dangling
From each line
Which sway
As winds of anger
Defeat
What phrases linger
When fears
Are birthed within

Laying
Tiny lies
Like eggs
For infant demons
Holding
Monstrous wishes
In their quick
And scuttling hands

So the lost
And silent voice
In this throat
Becomes complacent
As breath
And spoken changes
Cough silk
Instead of hope

As dust
Begins to mount
From patterns
Taking residence
Among shadows
Being woven
Across this dampened
Soul –

These chambers
Of my heart
Their deep
And musty crevice
And basement
Lacking center
To shelter
Wayward words

Flowing
Though they must
Throughout
Infested currents
Of vessels
Pumping madness
Demanding
Blood is drawn

Beyond
My living will
Consumed
By prying insects
Whose base
And natural function
Is to trap
Inspired verse.

– J. Pigno

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