I could see inside
Where we sat
From the headlights
Over expressways
Whose vacant rooms
Keeping shadows
Held vague figures
Seeming like us,

With familiar forms
Taking shape
Near concessions
And counters run empty
Once selling our joy
Always colorful
Sharing snacks
How memories taste

Which still believe
Some are screens
On abandoned lots
Nearing midnight
When winter’s dark
Beckons echoes
Only few can hear
Driving past –

That certain bliss
Skipping school
Or summer’s breath
Crowding doorways
While escaping lines
More oppressive
Than bad heat
Those days did forget,

Being young
But jaded enough
To appreciate scenes
By their ending
Since cinema meant
Little moments
Can fulfill my dreams
Even small

For afternoons there
Yet again
Despite such faith
Feeling dormant
As time has shown
Off of Travis
Hoping ghosts
Claim proof it endures.

• J. Pigno

Is there solace
Yet to be claimed
From surviving wars
Between shadows,

Like a phantom door
Among memories
Found in hallways
Only at night –

Each skipping beat
My true key
For this corner room
Never noticed

During morning’s veil
Hiding symptoms
Through distractions
Daylight permits?

Another routine
Passing locks
Making handles beg
Our attentions,

Unlatching bolts
Toward old spaces
Missing windows
Shunning new sights –

Where sun so bold
Stifles air
And hope grows stale
Behind curtains

Fearing dimness
Proves everlasting
Haunting men who miss
Lonely thoughts.

These aching words
Do agree
Such painful dreams
Should inspire

What phrase remains
Knowing poets
Write their best
When ghosts will attack –

While shapes enfold
Every breach
Life’s battered walls
Leave neglected,

Often cracks themselves
Being monsters
Storming studies
Mansions forget.

• J. Pigno

Our past
Is the devil who knows
What happiness
Kills us with hindsight

But demands we believe
Each tomorrow
Finds its memory pursued
Like a wish,

Which misses that call
Staring back
When dreaming alone
Cannot fathom
How heaven remains
Less elusive
Than days long sought
As they were

Under details
Buried from pain

Letting faith enfold
Such experience

Far beneath these woes
Hardly stories
For another sad sack
Keeping hope –

Being here and now
Yet again,

Proving fate itself
Merely selfish,

Watching God employ
Science fiction
Seeing good things end
All at once.

Even plot threads
Better off wrong
Are appropriate there
Despite ruining
Life’s best extents
Hitting limits
Counting backwards
Sifting through age –

Another lost year
Discontent,

Looking sideways
Spending their purpose
On delivering still
Future letters
Sent home towards hands
Truly loved.

• J. Pigno

I forget how God
Presses play
When at night
There is nothing
But dimness

From the glow
Of an old screen
Fading
Well before my eyes
Ever sleep,

Reading words
Since shows on repeat
Still remind
How grief
Remains silenced

Left alone again
In that corner
On this couch
Like a character
Mute –

Where sitcoms laugh
At relief
Under moons
While fear
Faces windows,

Watching nighttime
Pass
Though indifferent
If remembering
Channels have changed

As death must speak
After dark
Over bands
Which switch
With our meaning

Like our lives spent here
Being wasted
Letting analog
Share
What we lost,

Between dreams
Such static pursues
Feeling real
Though color
Escapes us

By grayscale hopes
Only praying
Some transmissions
Reach
Very far.

• J. Pigno

We knew little
The day it began
And that’s how life
Often leaves us

With tempered glass
Still obscuring
What arms can stand
Losing face

When turns they take
Always pass
From perceiving gears
During heartbreak

Like our phases set
Between measures
Where moments elude
Being grasped,

Though sound alone
Must compare
To these glimpses caught
While believing

If one more hand
Edging nearer
Should sing love’s hope
Bittersweet

On elapsing beats
Which confess
Every failing dance
Worth agreeing

Such dreams held close
Tear at dresses
Too beautiful now
For those proms

Few ending scenes
Will depict
As vague escapes
Faking youthfulness –

Just another bad wish
Taking numbers
Pitting breath
Against better days.

• J. Pigno

There is little
This autumn depicts
But the colors
Of once living
Memories

And their metaphors
Painted with branches
Whose leaves
Can elude
Better words

No bedroom sill
Ever glimpsed
Or inspired
Once
Proving distance

Between what hope
Remains waiting
Very near
Where its palette
Resides

Using death
As our outdoor brush
Speaking tongues
Like flames
Too indignant

Along broken twigs
Lining sidewalks
Over shoes
Which tread
Fallen gold

Showing landscapes
Richer from pain
Than windows
Closed
Fearing freedom

Expressed by God
Every season
When martyrdom
Breathes
Vivid ash

On desperate winds
Creeping in
Through glass
Left cracked
Begging nature

For one stray hue
Felt against us
Touching up
Each soul
Left behind.

• J. Pigno

I’m afraid
How the dead
Do dream
Beside our own
When we travel

On highways
Cracked
Over deserts
Where they meet us
Halfway to grace

In roadside booths
Trading looks
And coffee cups
Warm
But not teeming

As their contents
Spill every answer
By their wordless
Proof
Staring back

At a presence
Never quite sure
How each morning
Fakes
Even knowing

Which heaven
Alone
Remains closest
Finding diners
Stranded at night

For one last meal
Feeling blessed
Truly touched
This time
Through believing

Better angels
Dwell
Between pillows
Closing eyelids
Chasing that sleep

Seeking hope
Of living again
Losing semblance
Bound
Under bedsheets

Leaving days
Such miracles fail us
Only finding
Signs
Glowing past

Towards faithfulness
Neon redeems
Or inspires
Afar
Through its distance

Down routes
Unexplained
Worth repeating
This full tank fears
Always gone.

• J. Pigno

This reality
Waiting for views
Where the crash
Includes
Better numbers
Must narrate pain
Never noticed
As it weighs
Such grief
By machine –

Vindication
Failing on screen
In our breakdowns
Pushed
Like performance
But believed so real
After dreaming
Such mirrors
Show back
What we wish,

Or defend out loud
Being wrong
Proving smiles
Themselves
Very dangerous
When crying
Again
Needing reasons
Much other than truth
Seeming hard

For those unfair
In their stream
Leaving space
Between
Hidden privilege
On sponsored lives
Almost coded
Taking trips
With meaning
To sell

Over hurt
And comments below
All from profiting
Raw
Through engagement
Under lights
Near microphones hanging
Trading answers
Wrong
But designed.

• J. Pigno

Am I wrong
For the static untold
And divine unknowns
Between flickers
Where we dance
Through dreams
Over broadcasts
That still have me
Believe
She is real?

Always there like snow
Seeking voices
As her white noise
Fades
Into whispers
While beings of light
Fake projections
By stutters
Which speak
Broken words,

When night exhausts
Grainy visions
With prophets
Who paint
Dirty pictures
To resume old needs
Chasing muses
Now saints
Whose sleaze
Offers prayers

No analog tape
Ever claimed
Or effectively
Caught
Filming angels
From smiling coy
Posing gently
Letting hair
Contour
Certain grace –

A perfect escape
Before long
Until daybreak
Bleeds
Brighter nothings
Beyond our scene
Finding meaning
Just right
Seeing angles
Obscured.

• J. Pigno