two petals falling from a tree
enraptured in a dance
the breeze blows them back and forth
harmoniously
loquacious music rolls across the hills
they fold in
together
like lovers in a street
and part ways when they reach
the dew-eyed grass

It feels like
the middle of the day and yet
you are
tired
It feels like a river that does not flow

Summer night,
The feeling’s right.
All through to daylight.

The morning’s plain.
All to noon,
When that scent comes back.

The smell of summer’s morning dew.
The smell of bacon.
The smell of Saturdays with mom.

Dad kisses goodbye,
Mom says hi.
And that sweet smell of summer’s morning dew.

All this time,
Spent with you.
And that smell of summer’s morning dew.

Most of us can remember our childhood.
Close our eyes and see our past.
Afraid it will slip away,
afraid we will forget.
Forget it all and we don't come from anywhere.
Everyone asks my fears and I always say the dark.
The dark isn't true.
My fears isn't the dark,
it's what's in it

Night oh way…
All the night so to say!
And in the night, heaven’s to be day?
Way! All the day to be heaven’s I do say!

Into the night does he ride?
Into the ride might my flight.
Out into the open of hell!
This tyranny is but past the gates of hell,
Down into the depths all while we are told to be in heaven.
For how far to ride into this eternal night?
The nights in hell be twice long into blood.
Blood be it when spoken thy name.
Thy name be all but said into the gates,
Gates to be guarding heaven.
So is he to ride?

He is to ride tonight!

Jeffery,
if you're reading this,
(which you might be or you might not be
how am I supposed to know)
this is your sign to
LEAVE ME ALONE.
do not disturb.
these doors are lovingly closed to you.
goodbye.

making choices
           is not for the
                 faint of heart                
                               any step                ⍜
                           into the future        ☇≣⤷
                                             is a step 〳〵
                                                   into the
                                                             ­                 
                                               ­                           
                                     ­                                    dark

Pequeña del amor, tú no lo sabes,
tú no puedes saberlo todavía,
no me conmueve tu voz
ni el ángel de tu boca fría,
ni tus reacciones de sándalo
en que perfumas y expiras,
ni tu mirada de virgen
crucificada y ardida.

No me conmueve tu angustia
tan bien dicha,
ni tu sollozar callado
y sin salida.

No me conmueven tus gestos
de melancolía,
ni tu anhelar, ni tu espera,
ni la herida
de que me hablas afligida.

Me conmueves toda tú
representando tu vida
con esa pasión tan torpe
y tan limpia,
como el que quiere matarse
para contar: soy suicida.

Hoja que apenas se mueve
ya se siente desprendida:
voy a seguirte queriendo
todo el día.