Some poems seem to write
themselves;
I just move the pen.
Others are like lumps
of clay;
they refuse to be molded;
they need moisture and time.
This one is like
a robin that just learned
to use its wings.
It heads west, on a
gentle breeze, into
a tangerine sky.

There is a
buzzing to my
busyness.
My mind refuses
to be at ease.
It happens when I
try to
read or sleep.

Doing Always.

Where did the
playground go?
I think it split for
Brazil with the
squirrels.
We are all nuts.

I was just a misspelled word
you so easily erased
from the notebook of your life.

                  
Now,
how do I ever erase you —
the most beautiful poem of my heart?

.        light                     shadow  
       rising                      falling  
      golden               ­     rusted  
     bloom                     hush  
    barefoot                 boo­tprint  
   jasmine                 cider  
  dare                      gather  
spark                    rest  
  rise                       fall
   tilt                         tilt  
    hush                     hush  
     breath                 breath  
     pause                  pause  
     now                     now  
     pause                  pause  
     breath                 breath  
    hush                     hush  
   tilt                           tilt  
  fall                            rise  
rest                             spark  
  gather                      dare  
   cider                      jasmine  
    bootprint           barefoot  
     hush                 bloom  
      rusted            golden  
       falling          rising  
        shadow     light

some will land on your doorstep
some will burst through your door
some will shatter your complacency
some will make you beg for mercy
some will break open your heart.

is this the final journey
this the final end

no more to physically roam
just a mind and heart to go

out into forever
the forever of home

Her laughter and smile still taunts me
So warm and bright
I still hear her footsteps, wanting to flee
Trying to flee, into the broad of daylight.

I sometimes think i see her, still there
I can’t tell if it’s a reflection with red
Because if i glare,
I remember that i’m staring at imperfection with dread.

“It’s alright, i’ll come back soon”
She would say with a warm smile.
I don’t believe her, it was already June
Come back, it has been a while.

“You’ll see me, but i can’t promise i will be okay.”
Those were her promises that she made before going towards the light
I pray and pray
But she didn’t give a sign of life.

Pure red, like a healthy child has
It flows with a breath and nutrients
But with a flash
Her flow breaks out of its placement