We’ll go down
On God’s sinking ship
While we celebrate
A sea which drowns us

Leaving behind
All the wreckage
Of this year which
Didn’t end well,

With debris that trails
Far behind
Long after those waves
Consume vessels –

Flooding these decks
Where acceptance
Becomes reason enough
To still swim

For surviving at life
When it fails,

Plunging towards depths
More mysterious,

Swearing fate appears
Empty like oceans

Always lonely
And blacker than death.

Only fear
Can know water’s intent,
Drinking time
How faith swallows demons

Resurfacing now
After traumas
Keep dragging our world
Undertow.

Perhaps wreckage
May offer some glimpse,

Seeing days since passed
Often surface
If their meaning inside
Remains buoyant
Despite suffering loss
All endured-

During hardships
Pushing back love,

Fighting illness
By changing disasters

Into weightless dreams
Strength inhabits,

Maybe sick
But still staying afloat.

• J. Pigno

It’s been years
Since I’ve seen that ocean

Or spent summer by the sea
With my parents,

But during winter
We wish for these memories
When arcades are
All boarded up

And shuttered
Behind snowy drifts
Collected on planks
Above sand dunes

Where driftwood sits
Always waiting
For another tide
To pull them back in.

Some images
Just aren’t thoughts
But a feeling which lasts
Beyond decades,

Eternally held
As experienced
Like our childhoods
Ready at will –

Those miracles
Better preserved,

Snapshots caught
Without cameras,

An image of mom
Winning crane games
Or dad eating sweets
By his bench.

Last night
I dreamt we were riding
Back home
Towards dusk’s coral promise,

After sharing
Each moment so special
Beneath fate’s sky
Glowing red –

One colorful scene
Become permanent
Inside this mind
Getting older

While accepting death
Almost ready,

Soon acknowledging fear
Is belief

Knowing God was there
Leaving traces
Now comforting sights
Gaining context

Missing fixtures
Captured forever,

Wishing some days
Never did end.

• J. Pigno

There are angels
Angry from waiting
When I squint my eyes
Towards the sun,

Wishing these words
Weren’t stifled
As they inspire grace
Through its burn –

A fiery light
Meaning something
Beyond what day
Grows despondent

In this backseat
Watching full highways
Echoing songs
Loudly played

Over headphones
Bringing on tears
Seeing skylines
Pass through those windows,

Feeling band-aids
Pulling at punctures
Where IV’s bled
For so long.

Each pain suggests
Savoring air
Since December’s breath
Shyly offers,

Seeping through cracks
While agreeing
Suffocation isn’t being
Too blessed –

Losing time
Like philosophies stifled,
Slowly taken by graves
Without knowing

Or letting our world
Hear their beauty
Before God Himself
Calls you home.

Even heaven still
Hardly seems far
During car rides
Back to Staten Island,

If poems prove
Faith always values
Moments we seize
Before death.

That city just fades
Into dusk,
Though tomorrow remains
More elusive

Than certainty
Following sickness
Fear has assured
Will endure.

Finding hope
Never changes much,
Letting sadness
Sit under seatbelts –

Adjacent,
But keeping good company,
Now enjoying
Those very same sights.

• J. Pigno

I may die
From an airless lung
Because broken hearts
Just aren’t special

Or express this fear
Feeling breathless
After trying so hard
With these words,

To convey such truths
They’ve denied
While yelling out loud
Every symptom
That nightmare shell
Called a body
Throws at its soul
Trapped within –

When the phrase
Means no coming back
After pain agrees verse
Left unspoken
Is my wish deep down
Never witnessed
Or dreams unfulfilled
Causing grief.

Some hurt
Manifests new grace,

Finding solace
Beyond comprehension
Where God awaits
Hiding those answers
Between sentences
Humans can’t bear

If believing
Despite losing faith
Against doubtfulness
Art should inhabit,

Relieving restraints
On emotions,

Using passion
For bolstering odds

Each anxious thought
Should engage
Thinking sickness
Fate lacking poems –

But real beauty
Defies suffocation,

Still screaming them,
Winded and all.

• J. Pigno

I never really knew
My grandma
In the ways that my cousin
Experienced,

Growing up next door
Where she waited
Each day for him
To come home from school –

Yet perhaps that’s why
There was tension
When she died last year
Without warning,

After living so long
Fighting sickness
And leaving her mark
Through such strength.

Those perceptions changed
Through persistence
Once hidden by lies
Behind reasons
Our elders believed
Hearing legends
Where perspective itself
Became lost –

Agreeing how vibrancy
Echoed
Like colors in time
Drawing pictures
Their existence shaped
Painting memories
Lacking shyness
While confidence shined.

Then a dream was shared
Between children
Who remembered days
Very different,

Being young men now
Trading answers
Over words which spoke
Beyond death.

He asked me
If these stories were true.

I replied, “All fables are fluid,
A relative scene based on wishes
Our love can destroy
Playing feelings
This discussion implies
Mean too much.”

Together,
We laughed despite tears.

Whoever seemed right
Didn’t matter.

Staying close
Is far more important.

Some questions
Still best remain myths.

• J. Pigno

I watch videos
Of smiling faces
Between bleeding gums
Still forcing
Some inspired speech
Less genuine
Than any more tears
They could shed –

Mere reflections
With flesh on bone

In the mirrors that lie
Behind cameras,

Avoiding each crack
By denial,

Reassured
This life is a dream.

Such happiness breaks
Overnight
As an x-ray glows
Bleeding halos
Through those dark rooms
Highlights tumors,

Finding spots
Where God didn’t miss.

He laughs at hope
While we wish
Tomorrow may hold
Better answers,

Seeking miracles
Stemming from science
Becoming lost faith
Now replaced.

Even doctors
Experience fear,

Discovering truths
Unexpected,

Worried how death
Never chooses
But eliminates all
Nonetheless.

Only patients
Suffer with bliss,
Overjoyed
Upon death’s diagnosis –

Demolished,
Yet oddly delighted

Beyond bodies
Their answer awaits.

• J. Pigno

Relief 
Is a privileged blossom
Whose petals
Absorb little water 
From the vase which sits
Under windows 
Since assurance
Becomes each sun –

That position 
Avoiding all rain
But a human touch
Spilling drizzles 
Out of earthen pots 
Hailing showers 
For seeds 
Still sprouting their truth,

That sullen spout 
Shedding tears
Upon precious herbs 
Nearly budding
Before those leaves
Dry up slowly
Knowing shelter
Means staying inside 

And absorbing light 
Behind glass 
But observing growth 
From high dormers 
Above raw land 
Never thirsty 
Always wondering
How soil should feel. 

Every flower
Our safety ensures 
Means protecting life
From its freedoms 
When worlds outside 
Keep on changing
Despite what fear 
Cannot cure  – 

This reality 
Handed by God
Just to wither away
Along counters 
While morning sings
Far beyond them
Where nature demands 
Hanging vines.

• J. Pigno

Have you ever touched glass
Made of ice
Letting windows clear
Show visions
Whose sights outside
Prove special
During Christmas spent all alone –

Frigid words
Raw mornings confess
Beneath blankets silently waiting,

Chilly mountains
Capturing stories,

Though glistening bright
Despite clouds.

These are the living snowdrifts
Housed in my dreams
Drawing angels
Now creating their silhouettes
Patiently
Before winter’s breath
Should warm –

Some fleeting sense of forgiveness,

Another wish entirely,

Where shapes stay formed
From memories
Trailing footsteps
Regretting their path.

I’m aware how
Winds die down
Before any lost soul can remember
Those contours held
Between blizzards

Yet cerrainly blessed
While they last.

This beautiful scene may fade,

But not when hope
So gentle
Still rests upon grass that listens
To its God soon
Uttering grace –

His whisper welcoming cold
For our burning lungs
Left wanting
One more chance at expressing
A poem like flakes
Which fall.

• J. Pigno

Some devils
Can appear in shells
Which resemble
Those familiar faces

Whose presence
Deceptively comforts
To engage our sins
Left exposed –

Spiritually weak
As they say,

Believing those hands
We have shuffled,

Spread across minds
Before sleeping
And dreaming of cards
Plotting death.

Yet still,
Fate always proves hard
While praying each day
How things mustn’t,

Only vague enough
For excuses
But denying real faith
All along –

Needing answers
Encouraging fear,

Letting doubtfulness
Dictate tomorrow,

Filling life’s gaps
Through clairvoyance
Or perhaps
Another nightmare instead

Where uncertainty
Becomes begging beasts
Soon smiling back
Sharing knowledge
Demanded by hearts
Gravely wounded
Gaining trust
No religion can earn.

I’m aware
How eagerness fools
These desperate minds
Always cheated,

Being guilty myself
Seeking heaven
Between images
Featured on decks –

Pretty pictures
Offering tales
Despondent souls
Often wonder
If their lies unveiled
Contain solace
Or prove judgement’s
Inaccurate wrath.

As a kid
One priest said it best –

“Testing demons
Will offer us answers
God never wants
Despite wishing
That advice from beyond
Weren’t true.”

• J. Pigno

I find meaning
In narrow spaces

And the holes
Where darkness settles

Like silhouettes
Blanketing corners
So comfortably drab
And confined,

As shadows parade
During nights
When emptiness shapes
Certain figures
Reflecting our own
Without feelings
Or defining lines
Never drawn –

Lacking plans
But colorless forms,

Stealing proof
From faithless existence,

While these breathless husks
Suffer madness
Attempting this life
Once again.

Being blessed
Is getting too cramped,

Still begging for words
Silence wishes
Was crying those names
Barely uttered –

Becoming what peace
Truth ignores.

Under blankets
Nothing can hurt
Since blindness bears
Sullen graces,

Like death
Before candles extinguish
Behind both eyes
Fearing light.

Things burn
How passions will change,

Hiding further dreams
Gently crawling,

Towards sad relief
Slowly choking
On damaged minds
Hiding wicks –

Such gifted sparks
Unrevealed
Between blankest walls
Growing tighter,

Under dusty shelves
Pain has covered
Holding burning books
Far beneath.

All smothered flames
Fade away,

Though some endure
Dancing wildly –

Leaving ash
Despite suffocation,

Lingering still
Yet enclosed.

• J. Pigno