i caught myself digging up old friends
as if i need to see their faces again
i went away and i stayed the same
you lay there and withered away
maybe there's better meadows
to bury these bones beneath
decomposing, roots grow slowly
you could help push the daisies

The ocean seems so peaceful, the night is so calm
How the moon is ever so charming
Shining on me once again, and once again I long to be friends
you taught me how to whale watch, you taught me how to heal

I stare right at the moonlight, hopeful for a shooting star
It seems you're getting farther, and I'm left with all the scars
We stay closely right on the shore
Yet loving memories turn to a bore

Swaying and swaying, our row boat is sinking
Waiting and waiting, do I stay still or do I swim
I hear the whales calling me, I float towards their sounds
They sing melodies of the past, their themes are so profound


You wait on the shore, dripping wet, I'm stuck between you and nostalgia
Of whale calls repeating what once was, and you proclaiming what will be
Their voices sound like Honey, yours like a bee

I know you're right, I know its wrong, but I want to live in the past tense
before our relationship became tense
lovers to friends, siblings to strangers
We went from content to danger

I wave goodbye, cowardice, I cry knowing that this is all a dream
That you wished me the best, that I stayed in the stream
That you want us close, and I grow even farther
I wish you were closer, and that I was smarter

I stay, whale watching as you fade away
Wondering when it will be the day
We meet again and iron this out
To before things went south

I hope to find you on that same shore
with the same smile
with the same heart

She had of the prettiest smiles I’ve ever seen
It felt like a reflection of all things bright
As if the world had no darkness, only light
I never seen anything so serene

I was late to lunch today
She had already taken a seat in a corner booth
By the look on her face, she couldn’t hide the truth
Yet she didn’t know what words to say

Her eyes glisten when she talked
It seemed the nervous feelings were gone
And so, the feelings continue to feed on
With feelings of love now locked

I remember a time like that, to be brave
She reminded me of you and your glow
He reminded me of myself, before you had to go
For I wish there was more than flowers on a grave

George Washington never saw a funny movie.

Culture had not knitted lightning into now, yet,

when the leaven in my bread was just a ******
beasty idea attempting to pass Jesus is Lord testing

half-way through today, right now, middle
of everything that's going on in and
around the whole internet connected reality,

right now,
we have magic in our qwerty trained brains,
we can recall the music, baddabumbaddabum
baddadabadah bump, p-ting

college prep

learning to type, mechanically, like a machine,

some one far more famous than me,
told me in print that no real poet types.

I found him poetically unqualified to prophecy.

---------------

My old cat
asleep in the sun
he knows his summer
is almost done

the good old nights^

roam the recesses and the abscess of
our too small apartment in the the very
large, very long, very inescapable wee wee
hours of the dark session of the day, lifting
my tablet to inscribe/ reorder/ recorder her/
this one more in my personal history, with
rant, word elixir, a note to our plural selves,
thinking of English gardens drinking up my
water freshly flowing and flying to you, via
nighty nite storm clouds, or your rural falls

and white clouds cumulus do  not return, and I too,
as my mind ***** and slugs but all attempts to
pierce the walled in somber slumber FAIL.

The creative comes besty beast like when I am driven from my dreams to wakealate (dream+speculate with eyes open)
dream of our realities and the tv (she never
remembers to program to shut down), drones
on about some product with XL in the name
that will make the unsleeping walkers feel
so much-better.

but not, not us, for we turn exploratory and
listen to the humming, beeping, tiny little diodes
of Joseph’s colored coat, all the mini stimuli,
the lights that mark the modern blacker hours
of rhythm, even those who can’t dance, can sleep,
‘cept for me, for I am a tune disturbed, needful of
minding, all these a rhythm busters ghosting me,
as a prelude to a poem vision now freshly etched
on my mind and now upon your flesh, an animation,
of reanimated images of ancient statues, ancient
advertisements for fertility, the dream continuum
of our lives, beyond our clearly demarcated time
line, the human, gene based need to outlive our
bodies in-the bodies of our progeny are a recurring
motif…female fecundity,  statues, many cracked or
missing limbs, come to life and move around, wailing
with grief and anger and hope and desire

alas, alas, another ole good time night ramble,
amidst familiar places and new abscesses,
and I wonder, how am I writing this when both
hands cover my face, and yet I still envision?

Tuesday Apr 16
3:08am
(the year escapes me,
for notions of big times
are measured in multiples
of I can’t remember)

You were full of thoughts deep inside you that was kept for a long time,
And I was constantly amazed the way  your feelings was confessed
Something that's inside your heart makes the people got impressed
But I wasn't so sure, and I think that a one false move would constitute a crime

I hate you, the way I hate other people
And that bothers me, for I should be the person who doesn't care at all
I do. In a short span of time I did stop caring
But most of the time I never think about mine

You will never be the first person who did something for me, either good or bad
But you're the only person who told me something that I forgot but can still feel it,  and its makin' me mad

This should be sweet, a message that could make your heart beat
But I don't know how to compose something
It's full of confusion, I only write because of grief
Still, I wanna write for you, for someone special that I should treat