Three Poems by Brian Shadensack

II.

I begin to long for complex sentences
a dance of the Syntax.
The excitement and terror of the open
There is no fiction
in unusual ways
The sinewy articulation between sentences
Undoing the vivid


III.

Their eyes a dance of unsaid words,
of unsaid love.
Dreaming of early optimism,
of late lives.
The acrid smell of her wet hair,
all that is left.


IV.

I sit in a world of fantasy.
My belly full of rose water and
melted tootsie pops. I smell
of hormones and oak.
My senses dying in an
alcoholic euphoria.
Is this happiness?

{Poetry by Brian Shadensack}