Don't tell me what I'm not -
I'm already well aware -
A bird knows the use of wings
When it flies through the air
Worry about your own
And where you draw the line
When next you move to fly,
Before you speak of mine

I dream about how we would conquer jungle gyms and grocery stores.
Anything, an adventure in how not to grow up and instead grow in.
It hurts to wake.

Empty beds will invite heavy hearts

Days. Weeks. Months. Years.
We'd like to think we can outrun our fears
But we all know that is a fool's hope
The body that hangs at the end of the rope
Doesn't live on the promises of tomorrow
And neither should we

Wind erodes rocks over time
Words fill voids over rhyme

I hate this feeling.
This wake up from a good dream in a bad mood feeling.
This you'll never be better than the foot you shot yourself in feeling.
This gnawing loneliness, teased by your brain feeling.
This dream and reality are as far apart as your imagination and your imagination is nothing if not endless feeling.
This ruins the day before it even begins feeling.
This if I knew how to cry I'm afraid of what the waterworks might give life to feeling.
This silent, silken feeling.
I hate this feeling.

There must always be a first flame - the initial kindling
The first twig to sing the song of burning
The summer dry oak tree origin of all subsequent ember
Call me ashdancer, smokeshaper
For I sing the tongue of spontaneous combustion
Unbridled and indiscriminate consumption
Your words are lightning to my August grass hill
And I hope to learn to love the purge of the burn
I hope to learn to love

As I passed a rock on my way
I said, it is dull and I am strong
I then went on, with no further thought
I crossed it's path again today
Weak and tired now, I was wrong
Realizing now, the lesson it had taught

I play a game of hypotheses.
I am winning.

The star speckled ceiling asks,
"How will you know?"

I answer,
"Her grocery lists will win Pulitzers - a novel I can't help but read in one sitting."

The constellation laughs uneasily, knowing that it will move before I do.

The tree topped curtain creaks,
"What will you say?"

I answer,
"Too much, never enough, probably both - your mystery is the only one worth solving."

The canopy bristles. I do not know what to make of it.

I play a game of hypotheses.
I await the next question.

Tombstones tell tall tales if you know how to listen
Stories marked by the ignorance of 'death is not here for me yet'
Billboards of birth and final breath
Anything exists in the hyphen
The too long but never long enough pause before the end

The water changes
Prepared, the matter reformed
Steady in the storm

If you should love me
You will learn the meaning of
What it is to live

Infatuation
Or maybe an infection
I am stuck on you

Streaming lazily
With no real place to get to
Water's gravity

Alpine autumn stream
Erosion's intervention
Before human hands

Dead branch, lively tree
Old green gives way to yellow
The cycle anew

Sponge moss clings to rock
A young jungle to itself
It is here for now

Wood older than me
How am I to burn the tree
That did bring me here?

Wisdom in water
Unceasing and unbothered
By such little things

You have no power
Over how I feel today
I won't let you win

It makes me anxious
How much I care about you
You've got hold of me

Think I'm bulletproof
A thick skin and paper heart
But, I'm the reverse

You were a moon once
Tidal force your specialty
You have since gone dark

Unfurl your courage to the wind, like a sail
Begin a new journey, make a new trail
You can't look back or be afraid to fail
Are you proud of the story you will tell
When time shall lift to you its final veil
And ask, were you the hammer or the nail?

I do handstands for you
(I have to use a wall)
I do handstands for you
And you don't care at all

Happiness is a hummingbird we define our value by the ability to hold onto
Swallowed whole, stored in between the bars of your rib cage
You hold happiness like "Watch me fly"
But no amount of sugar water words can keep it down
It was never yours to take

We are not a number
Be it test or wage or scale
Ultimately it is only ourselves
That we can choose to fail

They're markings for others
And not indications of our worth
First of which we are given
At our time of birth

When, at last, comes the time
Our final, absolute rest
The second number we are given
At our time of death

We are not a number
Don't take life too fast
Its not about the dates
Its all about the dash

*1996-?

Fondness makes the heart grow distant

I miss how magical the world used to be
I miss feeling that random and free
Miss it as I might, I look forward happily
Because in you, I see a little bit of me
You've taught me a lot about myself, friend
Unknowingly, my hurt and wounds you tend
A broken heart you've managed to mend
Only reminding me, you are heaven send

If you asked me to describe how I know God answers prayers
I would point you in the direction of honeybees

Because nobody so unassuming, with so monumental an impact, can come from any source other than divine

For is it not the place of the bee to buzz by plants and people, taking pieces of each to the next?

I see the still pollinated goodbyes of every former flower in your honeybee helloes

And honey, if your hello is an answered prayer, consider me cross contaminated

It is not until your petals have gone without pollen that you appreciate the sweet nectar of their presence

Hello honeybee

Stay as long as you need, then perhaps a little longer

Even a hurricane has an eye
A small peek at some blue sky
Where is your eye, my dear friend?
Does your storm within ever end?
I will brave the white waters today
Thus, my safety and peace I pay
Plunging deeper, to your core
To bring you safely back to shore

Awake
I can feel myself falling
Into old habits and new people
A too-long torturous "What if?"
That leaves a tightness in my chest
And an emptiness in the words
Of these few poetic adjourns
Til that elusive sleep returns

I write that this, my illusory ink,
May provide context to chaos and form to fact
That you might remember in the crescent
What I said under the full

I would follow you to the ends of the earth
Mostly because I have no choice

I would drape unapologetic in the dark of the dance floor as you held your first taste of testosterone

That clammy hand costume with buttons too big to blame your fumbles on anything else

I would soak your sunlight and take none for myself, growing as big, and tall, and brave as you do

Mother said milk makes for strong bones
Strong bones make for easy outlines, like, look at me
Take my picture and remember you left a mark

We're given a blank canvas to fill
With whatever colors and stains
And other things we happen to spill
A once white canvas, never too plain
It doesn't matter the paint you use
So long as you appreciate the time
And shades and in-between hues
Of the painting you will call, "Mine"

Just as the ink of my pen
Shall one day run out
So too will my heart
But, in pursuit of yours

In the event you feel tempest tossed
And life's not worth the cost
In the event your words are at a loss
And you begin to think all is lost

In the event you can not comprehend
And question, "Will this ever end?"
In the event you lose your closest friend
And your scars just don't seem to mend

In the event you breathe your last
And fail to accept whats past
In the event your hopes are dashed
And despair is all too vast

Do not any longer foolishly prolong
To seek where it is you truly belong
Instead, sing in life a joyous song
You'll find your troubles can't stay for long

When at last you've reached zen
Know it is only and only then
That no word of tongue or pen
Can ever again cause this happiness to end.

Joy died today.
That was the name of my grandma
- Is the name of my grandma
I'm not sure which tense to use

Her name, a homemade bread, sticks sweet to the tongue

Her personality, an open palmed hug to the child's name she cant remember anymore.

Her life, a monument to what it means to be kind and to be good

She does not own her name anymore

It has been given to the warm bread
It has been gifted to grandchildren
It has been remembered by those who remain

It has been remembered

Joy still lives, just, in other ways.

Gray and roiling waves
Of both cloud and sea
How quickly the tide turns
When you don't look to see

I've got a mess of a mind as of late
Thoughts so loud, that I can't concentrate
They're behind my eyes and beneath my skin
So many now, both are wearing thin
But you don't know, for I don't show
The thoughts racing around below
Of all the noise they always make
I'll keep quiet for sanity's sake
You don't see, that in the course of a day
The loudest thoughts are those I never say

I don't say things that I don't mean
And I don't mean many things
So I don't say much

The question comes again
Overcast, the clear abstain
A desire to doubt the strain
Clouds without the mercy of rain

Isn't love just a merry-go-round?
That old carnival staple in the center of the lot
Where the operator packs on too many people, turns it up too fast, and then gets mad when you throw up on the ride?
Every time you see one, its comprised of little kids and old people
She gets to ride the pony, because ponies are for girls
You get to ride the bear, because she took the pony
Both of you agree to take it slow at first
Take in all the flashing lights and the deep fried aroma
Until one of you decides your arms don't need to stay in your vehicle anymore
Two celestial bodies pulled closer together by that unseen thing called gravity
The world spins faster when you're with them
Time moves quicker when you're together
If time travel were possible this must be how its done
But sooner or later it becomes less merry, and more go-round
Round and round it goes, when it stops, nobody knows

There's a place of peace somewhere here
Said a ragged old stranger of no name
So searched many - some far, some near
Searching land, sky and sea the same
Yet little did they know to find
The place he spoke of was the mind