I turn over the pages.
Fold the corners to remember.
Feathers.
I trample through the rest
Of this anthology.
Try to rip and tear to forget.
Concrete.

My sledgehammer is rubber
And my drill is sponge.

The wind is a thief
And my tools are blunt.

Midnight creeps into view and the fog weighs heavily on my eyes,
Walking in the last sacred place that has not been tainted,
Divine in its authenticity and designs of reserved grandeur,
The barren surroundings and decrepit structures painted,
The snow begins to fall onto the branches of the willow tree,
The night calls out to me and the wilderness stirs with sentience,
The wolves begin their descent from the mountains approaching,
Encircling me waiting for my integral compliance,
I fear them; with their feral eyes and primal rituals,
I fall to my knees grasping at the soil in sincere repentance,
My eyes reflect those of an innocent pure soul,
They beckon me to the edge of the dense tree line in diligence,
I follow hesitantly through the darkness of the forest,
The wolves gather in a clearing around a beautiful brown fawn,
Heads bowed in apology at having to steal a life in its prime,
The night grows further from the forest and so breaks a new dawn.

I’m going to go cartwheeling through the world tonight...i might fall down....from up in the sky's height..i might never come up...from that everlasting fall...no where to go...no-one to call...no-one to help you up...to get you to your feet...your left out..locked out...pushed out to the street...but I’ll tell you this...this one little promise...it might seam futile..it might seam impossible but I’ll make it anyway...I’ll always be here...I’m here to stay..not going anywhere and i don't care...no matter if i fall...i won't let you fall...

Rhythmic pumping
Concealed in a dream
A riff of rifts
Ascend to the heavens
The solo shatters the sky
The angels cease to sing
A surge of sudden grace
A dancing maelstrom of melody
A wicked, hellish pace
I'm lost
So joyously lost
The solo bites with beauty
Treble rules all
Treble tones in treble time
Though they'll say its all based in bass
Majesty spews forth when six little strings
Oscillate

Sleep gurgles peacefully,
While innocent dreams float on by.
Vague memories, glide like driftwood downstream,
Dangled from our tranquil surrounds.
But you, you clung on like a vulture to its prey,
Deep among darker dangers.
Pillaging mercilessly,
You pierced my mind.
Red panic gushing out,
Black fear soaking in.
It was cleaned quickly away by a bubbling blue stream,
But boy, oh boy! I will always remember you.

Peaceful turmoil, and a roar
So blue. The gentle sounds
Come crashing over you. Puckered
Green in a scope white and true.
How can you lose hope
With such beauties around you?

I am reminded again: I envy women.
I watch when they go so readily
behind the mind's eye
to where consciousness sleeps and wakes,
and down to the throat
where human suffering constricts the breath.

They go so readily there, the women,
to the wounds and danger,
their tears an alchemy
in which the rage that turns on itself
and eats the soul
is given over to grief, a new alloy.

On a man's tongue, this grief is new,
for he is late, newly arrived
to face the mother and hear the music,
to find what lies between an impulse and a thought.

sometimes happiness and
I are right
there beside you
and when you turn to
look,
            we get bored and
                              leave