The History Architect

twilight lanterns fragile light
a will to feel sown

swallow ash
plant a seed make the bed

the steam whistles warmth as she gathers her sword
the look of love eyes in-shined

as evening shifts we wonder
what we left back at the start

all the demons decided to cook for you
exposing heart’s weakest moments

gathering nest
as something in the dirt rises towards you

clings to the sky
reaches high with direction

different sizes dragged across the floor
with answers chewing in their mouths

her eyes and her broken
flood become a hungry man’s river
fishing out lavender ghosts
saddling the dragon knowing she was the one

soft gathering fool
her rock is filling up pages
canyons swollen in offered affections
secrets kept buried deep in the rift

never once smoked damages
torn the risk of a worthless heart
or refracted from the aching damn
the smallest parallels of wilderness

burn the old shame from the legacy
where bone begins it’s task
of waiting for the huntsman
the history architect

hands have never
given out forgiveness
smitten fields are man loved

sky grows to yawn
beds whisper birth

force passing
ears as breathless lobs

touch between sly paths
where ghosts have moored rain

flag on a broken arrow
adorns body’s grief hill

Author Biography

John Barrios is a writer and stay-at-home father living in Portland, Oregon. He currently writes for Small Doggies Online Journal where he enjoys talking to writers about their process.