There’s a cat
and a heron
Sitting
by a creek,
They know of
Each other
But not close
Enough to
Actually know
Each other,
The cat observes
The heron
With eyes
Of a killer,
He then walks
Away as the tall
Grass is
being swayed
By the wind,
Maybe home,
The people on
The street also
Walk home as
The lonely night
Comes over,
And all the wisps
Of light come out
From hiding,
I share a feeling
With the night,
As I sit and observe
In a new skin
I’ve started to
Get used to,
I should
Go home too.

On a day
Like today
The stars
Aligned in a
Strange way,
They still shine
Bright against
The unreachable
Ceiling and
The seas
Hug their
Reflection tight
Against her
Skin, it accentuates
Her curves
That dances
Off the coast
Of the Caribbean
Islands or maybe
It washes away
The shores of
A clear beach
In Greece,
As the world
Still rotates
Around the pale
Yellow sun,
I lay neck
Deep
In a puddle
Of water,
I feel the
Rotation
Of the earth,
Or maybe
It’s vertigo.

It’s 1 am,
My friend in the
Front seat rolls
Another blunt
As the light
Post that are
Starting to
get warm
Cast a shadow
Of the old
Jeep wrangler
That we ride in
Going nowhere,
We take a right,
And then a left,
I sit in the back,
With a light mentol
American spirit
Perching upon
My lips,
Im lost in a train
Of thought,
You can almost
See the steam
Oozing from
My head.

Suddenly
the lights
turn
back on,

After 3
screeches
from the
transformer,

And a week
of sleeping
on the leather
couch

And the
tile floors
when it
got too hot,

A sense
of relief
rushes
through me,

The ac turns
back on
and I turn
the kitchen
lamps on,

It feels alive,
it breaths
through
the walls,

And exhales
through
the old vents.

the bees are sharing their dreams
with me

and I want to know what
it feels like to rob a bank,
to run naked through the moonlit garden,
compose a sonata,
stare up into trees
then pause to listen to blue birds singing,

the bees are sharing their dreams with me, today

and I want to run with the bulls
in Pamplona

I want to remember

time insane
when untamed dreams
ran wild
in the dim light
of a room without windows

desperado,
purple eyeshadow and lips

dancing through misty memory,
she comes

quiet midnight settling in her eyes
bare foot waif, never kind...

the thief of my dreams

I’m sorry
It’s inevitable,
It disappoints
And discourages,
It runs its course
Upon watered
Eyes and calluses
On the palms
Of your hands,
Despite all
Of that,
There’s dishes
To be made,
And cat litter
To be cleaned,
And people
To meet,
And storms
To prepare for,
And there will
Be someone to
Love,
Don’t let it
Get to you,
Despite.