The Night’s Day

darkness consumes

my realm of vision

for my sun rises

simultaneously to

the crescent moon.


the howling of

the passing cars

in the distance

filters the choir

of birds both

posted up on alpha waves,

while others decide to

blend their desolate chirps

within the passing wind chills

of the purple sky.


there’s placement

for anything and everything.

there’s validity in one’s purpose,

even if we fail in constant repetition

in attempting to search for it…


sometimes you need

to stop looking in order

to clear your eyes with clarity.


E. Eliot, USA

Scribbles on a Broken Keyboard

viewing reality

through a light caramel

tinted glass,

figures become

blended into the atmosphere

like tiny colorful

blotched smudges

within a painting.


the words so gentle and still in precision– being plucked from the bag of



how they thoughtfully and ever so graciously dilute the route of syntax, sprinkling

the leaves in fields with poppy seeds.


the third caramel elixir

goes down as I look through

its emptiness and see her naked

body standing beside me.


she opens the window and carefully

brings a flame towards her mouth,

making sure she leaves

patterns in the wind

as tiny dancers lunge

from her parted lips.


E. Eliot, USA

Perspectives Wrapped in Ethanol

let the fluid

untangle the


grid network

of subconscious thoughts.


you know,

the symbiotic relationship

between what your heart

wants and what your

head wants.


after enough blended tastes

i begin to wonder which one

acts as the hippo and which

is the bird.


it makes no difference

for it acts as a translator

in attempts to tip the scale.


at times

we think

our opinions

outweigh another’s…


keep on drinking

your holy water.


E. Eliot, USA