i started off learning from the wind.
and, like the wind, i slip-streamed by
and gazed into windows from afar.

all i've ever done is flowed and felt,
and to me that's enough to be magic.

everything i've learned is from listening
quietly
and finding where silence isn't.

that voice amongst the white noise,
that howl in the still darkness of night,
is my teacher.

beautifully my heart aches,
when the emptiness
is infinitely more haunting
than the ghosts that drift in it
as memories lost to time.

you feel an acorn drop on your head

and it doesn't hurt,
but now 
you are always looking for squirrels

where there are none



yet, if you look, intently, at the trees,

at the winding and intertwining of their branches,

you will see the crows, 
subtle, nigh invisible


in every tree in every forest

hidden amidst the leaves


you might lock eyes with them

and they will look away, or they may fly, 

but never explain a thing



but the wind will blow

and it will remember

and it will follow you on your journey

He falls awkwardly 

and soon lands 
in a quiet resting place


Every ocean shines 

with music and eddies
I walk close but not close;

deaf and dumb.

To write,
I'm in the starlight


Nothing new has come out yet

The change is small
This charge is not for vandalism

My face was very shocked
I drank the starlight 

and closed the hole in my heart


The light shines
Stars and security
The flowers are blooming
Remove the ice crystals

Big or small,
waves are made with wild hands


He was a water spirit 

and just wanted a home


There is no room in the cup

This beauty must be discovered carefully.
It's like falling into darkness.
When something is born, all reality is created,
except fruits and perishable goods.

A promise of a romantic relationship;
when the long moon shines in your eyes.
But, don't lose sight of it.

Pure victory.
I came home in a ***** car.
I wasted my time.

I raised my hand to him.
Cut flowers and damaged plants.
But I believe in the light of another day.

This dimension can be seen in simple things.
Because this is a new concept of tough love.
And talk, listen.

In sunblank white,
a-shimmer is the sky.
Multifaceted fragmented droplets
strewn asunder through the air,
and we are soaked with atmosphere today;
there are no shadows anywhere.


The sun mourns its fleeting dreams.
Nostalgically, kissing the intimacy of morning,
it drinks itself into oblivion.

But, there is starlight on daybreak’s breast
and my primal mind beseeches:
Stay inside and paint the cave with color.
Gray days need not complain
and the heart needn’t ache
of winter’s whispered promise.

It is a season of ghosts
of ruby dusk, and windswept mystery;
with death, things move,
yet life slows, to nigh halting breaths.

We are blissful, melting in memories.

Eyes sparkle
with the magnetism of the ageless
as we reminisce and wish
to pass along songs sung by our eras.

Through our creation,
legacy gleams eternal,
the world vibrates
with the synergy of consciousness,
and those yet long unborn
dwell with us in the universal heart.