'autumn clouds'

picture spiral twisted,
barren heat keeps the more of sore,
as water soothes
into rooted stormy wails.

when will ever the bastard seed
be thrown skyward,
away from earthly whores
who bore our souls with hollow breasts-

such is the color-spent sigh,
picture pores in mirror black inks
which mask the hurt…turns the head,
leaves orphans in the wind.

jonathan j ames