Winding, windy, wintery drive,
The flurries through my headlights
And woefully wondrous gusts
Begin to dot the world in white:
Glowing, gusting gale
The winter storm approaches.
Hearth and home, I head straight in,
The cold keeps getting colder,
Blowing, biting, baleful bursts
I return to my warm fold:
Softly, slowly, surely
The winter storm is here.
Here at home the heat is on,
The cats are fed,
The falling, fluffy flurry
Gives way to gentle beds:
Growing, snowy drifts
The Texas snow sets in.
Mushy, melting mournful,
The sun rises on white expanse,
Dripping, dropping droopy branches
The sun extends her own warm hands:
Pure, fading, here then gone,
Leaving muck and brown and memories
But precious in the time it’s here
This unexpected Christmas flurry.

A new home in spring,
I come as cherry trees bloom
Spring, a new season.

In the shady, shallow clefts,
A ray of light doth glow,
A tender, vibrant shoot springs forth,
'Midst rocks as cold as snow.
Though winds howl the banshee's moan,
Though bitter cold doth tear;
In shadowed, forlorn cavern's mouth,
A sapling surely 'tis found there.
Though leaves and branches break in fear,
When stormy gales release their hate,
That tenacious shoot doth hold its place,
'Till storm and snow and winds abate.
Amidst the dusty cavern floor,
Though it be a shallow hold,
At last a sturdy bough springs forth,
Weathered, beaten, torn, yet bold.
And at this affront to dignity,
The winds tear forth in awesome might,
But with a mast thus strong, roots so deep,
'Tis now naught but the sapling's fight.
Though leaf and branch may flee in fright,
And scathing winds still howl in rage,
Though ice doth press amidst the storm,
There stands that tree, by strength of age.

Do you remember the rain?
The sound of gentle drops
Pattering down, through the drain,
Gushing, flowing, until it stops.
Do you remember the storm?
Harrowing sheets in a torrent
Streaming down, blurring forms,
As the water roars to end its descent.
Do you remember the wind, howling?
Shaking and crashing and moaning about,
Like some beast fighting and prowling,
With anger bursting and spewing out.
I remember nothing, and gladly to be true.
If I remembered something, I was safely next to you.

I have words

I need to say and

I feel the need to speak but

I can’t quite get it out of my heart because

You’ve been gone so long and you’re so far away and

No matter what I say it doesn’t really matter anyway since

Whatever I say or you say or we say we’re still here and never move so

I’ll just keep it inside and not let it out and keep thinking about it and tearing me apart but

I don’t think I can do this much longer, I mean, I have so much on my mind to think and say and feel but

Do you even care?

I remember the touch of your hand
Still like a soft mist touching my skin
As we held each other on that hill
In the morning, in the fog
Warm water around each other
And the bubbling of the igneous spring
Steam surrounding your eyes like some veil
Beauty eternal, graceful, and serene.

I remember too your hair
Blowing in the wind freely
The salt breeze filling our breath
The horizon burnt in orange
Cool breeze dancing off the waves
Gulls gleefully cry above
The bobbing of the ferry
Steady, your head on my shoulder.

I remember more when I was sick
And chills racked me with exhaustion
You stayed that night, holding me close
The hum of traffic around our room
Your heat was warmer than the tea you made
And your breath a lullaby
Lights of cars flashing in the room
Stars in your russet eyes.

I remember Christmas morning,
Our coffee steaming in the veranda
The yuletide silence as we sat together
The bay and piers alight in flaming red
Your yukata flowed gracefully
And the sun rested on your cheeks
Lit as well as the hills around the sea
Your smile, a pearl among them.

I remember the last time
Neither of us slept
Two losses in one night
One a friend
One you, for longer than I thought
The beginning of three years
But I still remember you
You cried, I held you
I remember and always will.

I am small.
I am blind.
I am weak.
I am high
Upon this unsteady branch,
Waving, blowing wind beset,
I let out the finest strand
And find another on which to rest.
I am cold.
I am frail.
I am bold,
And I sail
In gust of wind
I set forth a seam
Another end
Another thread, silvered gleam.
Oh, that I were wise.
Were I mighty,
Fast, great, sublime,
I would rightly
Take up place upon this world.
I would weave a bridge, a tower
Or the veil of finest silks unfurled,
But were I more than I am offered.
But I spin.
I bind,
I loose,
I tie
Upon the waving branches,
Trunks and limbs within their leaves,
Or on the roofs and walks of man
From their windows and their eaves:
I spin,
I tie,
I wait,
I see.
I see by the slightest hint
That one has tread upon my home
And this ephemeral web, moon glint,
Shows wherefore this masterpiece is owned
This net,
This snare,
Beget
By effort fair
Behold! I am hunter, slayer, Death is my bite!
Frail in form but cunning, cruel
Those who before stood stop in their might
Now now within my ethereal tomb!
I weave!
I bind!
I reave!
I tie!
Behold, what patience brought low!
Behold, my toiled gains!
Look, see what my angsted toils show!
For the Spider is my name.

Please, don’t come to me
On broken limbs asking for a hand
On hobbled feet and fractured legs
When I can barely stand,
Please don’t ask me for help
Don’t ask what I can’t give:
I can’t bear to turn you away
Because my own are just as fractured
And I cannot carry you.

Please, don’t come to me
With blinded eyes, asking to see
With milky lids and darkened sight
Don’t let this be.
Please don’t ask my to paint
A sunset I can’t see myself:
I can’t bear to lie and paint a sky
That isn’t real, that is contrived
It’s not what you deserve.


Please, don’t come to me
Your mind muddled and confused
Your thoughts torn and tattered
Your feelings lost or abused.
Please don’t ask my heart to feel
With you the things I cannot know:
For years ago my heart died
And left a hollow husk, dark
That you wouldn’t want to view.

Please, don’t come to me
Because I want to be your ground
I want to be the one you go to,
Your support when no-one’s around
But I’m afraid to disappoint you
Let you down, hurt you more
I can’t protect or guide you
I can’t give you what you deserve
So, please, don’t make me hurt the one I love.

There stands the traveler's long lost grave,
a lonesome mark on an endless wake,
towering idly in the sands of time,
as the masses of the ages pass on by...

Did he leave his home as a soft young man,
with a ring of promise upon his hand?
Did his family mourn when he left their hold,
or was he forced on by a hand so cold?

Was it riches, glory, fame or peace,
or just a lust to wander land and sea;
did he seek a prize beyond all the world,
was his hope realized in sails unfurled?

As the winds may moan, and the rain may pound,
the trees may break and shatter on the ground.
Firmer than steel, strong as the rock,
the traveler steadily trods...


Did he find his rest in a garden's grove?
Or was his grave in a wake-torn cove?
Perhaps he treads the land this day,
Perhaps he's settled to a life so gay.

Whence did he come, where did he go?
What was his name, will we ever know?
Firm as the tide, lost in time,
the legend of the traveller will always stride.

Break his bones, break his back,
Reel in the sails 'till the wind may slack.
Steady as she runs, keep from the shore,
East and west, south and north.

as the winds may moan, and the rain may pound,
the trees may break and shatter on the ground.
Firmer than steel, strong as the rock,
the traveler steadily trods...

till the cliffs rise high, the tide runs low,
down to the depths the lad will go.
Caught by fate between his eyes,
Lost forever in the tide of time.

Scorpions and frogs
And drownings
Are a timeworn warning
Against trusting the cruel,
Unkind, and ignorant
Or being surprised at their nature.

I always read the parable
And faulted the frog
For trusting a scorpion.
"Never I, nay never"
I thought
And swore i would be better.

Now i look around
And i see
Im in a river together
With frogs, and scorpions
And maybe a chimera or two.
And we're all drowning.

I don't know right now
Who to blame
Or whom to turn to -
Maybe thats the problem
Or maybe
It's just my nature.

Happiness, like tinder, takes to flame and heat,

Bursting forth in splendor, then fading in retreat.

Like a scalding brazier, whose warmth encompasses,

Source of endless leisure, whose none else surpasses.

Yet still small joy, ephemeral, fading ghost of yesterday

Presence merely temporal, quickly passing far away.

Golden sheen, all consumed, as morning mists at dawn --

Common life then resumed, epiphany forever gone.

Cherish then every joy, treasure then each day's lot,

Celebrate every toil, that purpose be not forgot.

Behold a fire, fanning tongues

Of crimson warmth dance along

Inviting, smooth, and brightly lit

And comforting warmth emit

Her crackling warmth and light

Illuminating and  bright

Darkness held at bay

Til night passes into day

Take heed that once you look

Not to touch the caressing flame

Nor fondness for warmth mistook

Lest only oneself be to blame

Whence you prudence had forsook

Ne'er be you whole again.

I had a plant that was dear to me

In a *** upon the window sill

I kept it alive for several years

Inside, away from heat and chill

But suddenly this plant had died

And i could find no reason why

Sure there were times i forgot

To water, at least once a week or so,

There were also times i left it in the sun

But at least i never left it out in snow

I'm sure the roots had grown too

And filled the soil with no more room.

I guess it really shouldn't be a shock

With how fragile little plants are

After years of careful care

A few weeks of neglect can scar

I can't tell why I didn't think of that before

But now it is too late: the plant is no more.

I am king and lord, above all else I soar;

Wings span forth against azure skies

Below me stretches earth, e'ery tower, tree my berth,

From my domain none escapes my peering eyes.

Hours-long my forays, back warmed by suns rays,

For the sight and stench of death I peer,

Carrion to you; to me, feast more true,

I sail as a reaper to far or near.

Putrid flesh and bile, for others rot and vile,

My feast this sickened, rotting waste,

Let nothing moulder, my place as Vulture,

Then I return to the sky's embrace.

My Love - ever full and nourishing -

Were only that you were a vine, still I

Would worship at your root, and only you

Would be the food to give me strength.

My Love - ever most bright and brilliant -

Were you only the sun, i would lay bare,

Beneath your unending gaze, unflinching,

Consumed by your passion and warmth.

My Love - ever mysterious and keen -

Were you the depth of the sea

I would gladly drown, weighed by my love

To the bed where exists only your void.

My love - ever caring and kind -

If only you were a potter skilled,

I would gladly surrender myself

Back to the clay and be yours to form.

My love - ever cool and serene -

Were you death, unremitting

I would have no life worth living

To speed toward eternity with you.

My love - ever absent and departed -

If only you were the air surrounding,

Your absence collapsing my lungs

That i might not feel this pain.

There are 365 days in a year,

I want to give you every one,

But if I gave you 364,

You act like I gave you none.

Maybe I should give you more,

Even though I don't have much left to give.

Maybe if you can't take 364,

We should each find our own life to live.

Curse you, Heart, you fickle fool,

Whose honeyed words and silken tongue

Promises gaily lead along,

Ledges, scant, above Demise's pool!

Curse also Mind, whose steeled resolve,

Through e'ery belaboured trial, strife, and toil,

Had never graced one obstacle nor foil -

That love round which all thoughts revolve.

Curse you both, myself besides,

Fickle rakes, vagrants violate

Curse also I, wherein both reside

For whom Sense must oscillate

Curse most Love, the worst of Lies,

Death of Reason, curse of Fate.

Pass on lonely wanderer, to the land

Beyond horizon's edge, unknown to you

The familiar hearth, ever warm and fond,

Now a binding leash and a stagnant pool.

From dawns, to dusks, again to days anew,

Ever turning, never ceasing, from days to weeks to years,

Time stops short for ne'er a one, nor few,

But always turns to make the new appear:

Bind not to old, kept nearer at hand -

Even oaks must fell, ne'er time withstand;

Accept neither place, mundane nor undue,

Like rivers change, one's fate and lot may too;

Life is chance, seldom known,  consumed by fear,

Embrace chance, fickle still, bountiful in cheer.

What is the smell of purple

On crashing rocks of disarray

Whose fractured life leans against

The alabaster clouds of yesterday

Crimson rides of swirling moss

The loamy roots outstretched

Burning passion intertwined

Await on bated breathe

Fiercely loyal, apathetic

Flames upon the threshing floor

Sing the songs of all who wander

While others wander nevermore

Alone we sit together holding

The branches sway within the wind

Emerald skies forever shining

And trails that turn on endless bends

You and I, together, alone

But what is alone if not for want

Turquoise flames sprinkle down

This cursed, sacred haunt.

Maybe, yes, probably so,

If, and, but, or neither,

Stop waiting and just go

Synaptic frenzy harsh and wild

Birds on maroon roads below

What is meaning more than tired

I bask in darkness's glow.

Silent, somber, ever pressing,

Night into my mind and thoughts

The silence leaves me second guessing,

With fear entwined and ever fraught.

Ephemeral night, in silken dressing,

Ever found, seldom sought,

The dew my skin gently caressing,

In this embrace I am caught.

To the beauty of the night

Where stars are gently hung,

And the glory of the sight

Of the void I am among,

This passing lack of sight

As the world becomes unstrung,

The song of darkness alights

As nocturnal hymns are sung:

First the cooing breath of wind,

Then the rustle of the leaves,

The whippoorwill cries again,

The dove gives her last reprieve,

The blades of grass harshly bend,

River eddies on rocky sieves,

I find myself at peace within,

Night's calming peace relieves.

I found a felled tree laying down the hill -

Its roots exposed, green lingered still -

I wondered then how come

It persisted thus though undone.

I pondered a while at the oak, now laid low,

And questioned as to why it persevered so,

Its trunk on the ground, leaves in the grass,

Persisting in spite of what had passed.

Though consigned to a fate so unfit,

For months beyond, still green persists -

The fallen oak, slowly fading to brown,

Never once admitting its place on the ground.

Now on the path lays a log by the way,

Hollowing, rotting, decomposing each day.

But scattered round through soil peeking through,

Saplings come out, bringing life once anew.

Texas May, shifting into summer,

Tepid humid air and haze in the sky,

Quiet now, soon cicadas wake from slumber,

Screaming out July's encroaching cry.

Sweltering heat and pastel sunset,

Wildflowers wilt under coastal breeze;

Towering storm at evening onset,

Siesta days and life at ease.

Lemonade and condensation,

The smell of fresh cut grass and hays,

This ever-familiar sensation,

The feel of ***** Texas days.

Scathing the burning flames

Which light my mortal mind

Waste upon the fettered banes

With which i pass my time

Hallowed moments silent spent

Churning thoughts and endless harms

Each second glance a dark descent

To shattered memories alarmed

Mouldered feelings resurrect

Beckoning out deep regrets

Peace of mind once circumspect

Now blithe shame begets.

I wish only for your touch,

To feel again whole with youth,

Once more begin our carnal truth,

That secret rite I miss so much.

I pray to feel your gentle kiss,

The blithe joy of your company,

Such deprived has left me agony,

Instead congeal in ceaseless bliss:

May time alone not break our bond,

Nor forsake our tempered vow,

In absence let us not abscond,

Love's fruition preserved til now,

What'er occur, or fate allow,

May we remain what eternity allow.

Here i sit, a linguist, but have naught to say

Like the tobacco in my pipe, words fade

And my mind empties, like the smoke i exhale

Always, before now, I've had a thought

A feeling

A muse

Ideas

Wants

Desires

Goals

Dreams

I have now a bowl of ash

In my hand

And heart

To want to write, yet still

Words hang like lifted smoke

Loosely floating until

They fade again......

Have i naught to write?

Have i not the mind?

Like spent *****, burnt

And crisped to ash,

Or merely strained to tight to breathe and grow?

Poetry or prose,

I sit like fire spent

Ash-buried coals

Nothing writ.

Shrill

The sound of locusts crying

Oppressed

Beneath the boiling August sun

Cracked

The earth opens in a plea

Clear

The sky shines it's gaze below.

Mild

The gusts with tepid breath

Soaring

Dust, birds, and clouds on updraft

Looming

The clouds growing, building, tall

Silent

The gambled wait for rain.

Sudden

The cold, harsh downdraft

Rumbling

The throat of the storm awakened

Faded

The horizon behind virgas tempting

Ominous

Lightning's daylight flash

Pelting

Drops like bullets falling

Blinding

Sheets of cold, heavy rain

Over

The storm behind, thunder faded

Strangled

Humidity returns again.

There are words I want to say,

Things to let out of my heart,

Thoughts I want to voice aloud

And seething feelings to impart

The words I carry every day

The things I always bear,

Because I try to make you proud

Even though you're never there

I've carried all of these for years

Trying to live up to your dreams

I want to be what you want of me

Even when I'm bursting at the seam

Giving up holds all my fears

I swore I'd never disappoint

I kept on being who I cannot be

But now it stops

The moon upon your lips, The stars within your eyes –

The night’s breeze flowing in your hair –

My world in your eclipse, ever tantalized

My heart – designed upon your snare.

Had I gold in measure, Aurellian shimmer,

And silver, jewels, or yet more;

Had I endless treasure, it be all the dimmer,

Against your every deep allure!

Though strained within surrep titiously hollow lies

Sense then beyond me slip, my heart then shall capsize.

To stave my heart from sure despair,

Ne’er then gaining cessure, rather left to tremor –

I surrender leisure – grace me then your glimmer.

Want of you I’ll ne’er endure.