I don't think about it any more
I take out the trash
noting
Sticks caught in the crotch of a tree
The wind does what the wind does
breaks weaker branches down
does not care where
it leaves
them
on its invisible way

Days do what the days do
they don't count themselves
worthy as they go
to release
the afternoon
to evening—
an artless
emptying
to a low spot
where tears tend to pool
if I'd let them down

“You know,
in that low spot
out there...?”
Where it's hard to see
Where its hard to care?

They take heart
out
divide it by energy
for sadness—
I haven't got

Watched the clock go round
wipe out my little plans
with relentless hands

...and I never got dressed today

A bad memory is like a nightmare
Totally unexpected
A distasteful virtual abyss
It is the good memories
With which we overcome
Randomly welcomed and savored
It is like a soulmate for life

I looked up
and
I fell

*read in
reverse
it
works

Do you recall
The feeling of fall
With burning leaves
Dancing trees
And a breeze that pervades through all?

Do you remember
The chill of winter
That quiet slumber
And smell of lumber
As you sleep by the fireplace's dying embers?

Do you sing
With the thought of spring
And its blooming flowers
The cheesy lovers
That smile as the wedding bells ring?

Do you honor
The handsome summer
In its endurance
The assurance
And oppression of its motherly warmth

Do you feel
As if life isn't real
That all you see is a dream
That you may fall from the seams
Of the universe?

Even if everything is nothing
And our actions are but indistinguishable vibrations
Upon the vast lake of stars

Is it too much to ask
To remain asleep
And live in my fantasies
Superficial or deep?

And reap what I sow?
And decide to stop or go?
And live as I please?
And be who I want to be?

As the revered taste of the Cuban
expertly rolls from his tongue
And the frivolous sounds of his friends and associates whisk
past his ears
And the bouquet of the wood cling to his pallette
The judge reminds himself ironically
As he confides in his  glittering blanket high above
Even retrospection is a needless visitor
And introspection is of no use
When you've brought the gavel down on your own life
And condemned yourself
to a Beachwood bench in the middle of nowhere
Where nobody gives a ****

As reflections of our mature consciousness
Took us back to that awesome day
When we played together
Experiencing the magic shared
As our hearts embraced the beautiful sight
Of the red, yellow, black, and white balloons
Strung together
Floating peacefully against the backdrop of the blue lit sky
Breathing under the canopy of its shadow
We too were strung together
Hand to Hand
Skin to Skin
Let's challenge ourselves not to burst any of those marvelous bubbles
Transforming our minds to once again become colour blind

Though the rooms of her heart might be shattered
Her strong will and majestic grace remains resolute
She bore the remnants of ochre like tattoos on the walls of her body
As she cradled humanity's first born with promise
Her eyes bore the ravages of battles lost
Yet her reserves will lead us into the future as a blueprint from the beginning
And she will be called the matriarch angel of the universe

I profess to stay at home
when butterfly days calls
i am afraid of love
a mere coward
unchancing his luck