Never questions
What sick form
Our shadows take
When escaping
Sideways mirrors
In their dark
And shapeless paths

Over pavement
Where they stretch
Trading places
With each maker
Finding concrete
Shows no pattern
Leaving footsteps
None can trace

Whose ambition
Dawdles still
As these bodies
Pace forever
Across sidewalks
Less indifferent
To their image

Like those figures
More distinct
Than this face
That’s always hidden
Far beneath
Some tired passage
Of cement
We tread on top

Strolling gently
Towards one death
Bright as sun
Which blinds our journey
Under heavens
Blue from shining
Through these rips
In trailing clouds

Pouring glitter
Upon Earth
Still assuring
Those who wander
Besides lines
Of bare reflections
Every contour
Has two sides.

– J. Pigno

My God
Is equal parts innocence
And the tainted
Spark of rebellion
Who ignites each
Charred creation
By fear
I admit must burn

And thrill which
Doesn’t concede
To a torch whose blaze
Is weakened
Where His slowest tongue
May linger
Like dancing flares
On its wick

And heart
Whose cheapened wax
Still melts from words
In smoulders
Through lights that
Carry feelings
As they express
Their warming glow

Upon this page
Left blank
Within bedrooms
Starved for worship
At the edge
Of shadowy cursive
Where these cinders
Speak out loud

Just racing
Towards completion
So such flames
May find expression
Amid darkness
Hiding phrases
Even I can’t
Always grasp

Are divine
If born of heat
Scorching hands
Who brand their message
Writing madly
While they’re hurting
Showing marks
Considered death

To the lives
Not very fair
Missing purpose
Since obsessing
Over nightfall
Lacking lanterns
But what darkness
Comforts them

Tracking beacons
Yielding fast
When forever
Begs attention
From great flashes
My pen follows
Now defiant
More than scared.

– J. Pigno

Here I am
Running in place
With legs
That won’t even
Along what lines
By an aimless
Towards death

Their certain gait
If inclined
To change directions
When such pace
Is fast
Of this route
They may have

Since engaging
Altered paths
Where no fear
Can stay
Through these phrases
Always stuttered
Like my limp
From hindered

Ever chasing
True relief
Now believing
Words I’ve spoken
Hide those subtle
Behind them
Leaving empty
As gifts

While my racing
Just repeats
Staying put
But still
At motion
Hoping outcomes
May be different
Losing track
Of how I’m

– J. Pigno