4AM-
a boy runs across
the four-lane roadway,

eyes like rare stones,
face burlap-creased dust,
jean shorts, a dolphin backpack
meant for someone smaller.

I track in my car,
take the exit that curves
around an abandoned encampment.

I find cement steps,
but the boy is gone.

Only smoke remains:
a hooded figure curled
in a doorway of a derelict building,
an empty tent split by knife.

The world recedes,
layered, unbroken.

another vision settling
into the mind,
a thick silence I fold
into the others.

Your love is like a frozen bird, a
feathered stone falling from the sky.
I wish it didn't die.
It should be flying, and soring, and
healing, against the warm blaze of
the afternoon sun--weaving and
diving through the coolness of the clouds.
But it's gone, and all it can do is
plummet and take a few more
birds out, on its way down.

Teachers are like stars
who light up dark minds,
like the sky on a moonless night.

Their light doesn’t burn,
but soothes young, innocent minds,
guiding them on their path
towards their destination.

Many teachers touch our lives
along the way—
each bringing new wisdom.
Some shine softly,
while others stand out
like brilliant stars.

But just like every star
gives away its light
to brighten the night sky,
every teacher plays a part
in making our life
a success story.

Burning embers sitting amongst the wood
From time to time a gold blue flame emerges
The wood crackles against the heat
The glow is calming to the spirit
The smell enticing like a natural perfume
As the wood continues to burn
The embers glow a red orange color
With a slight stream of smoke
That reaches up towards the sky
In its own way it’s Heaven

Because you were in the crack of dust
In the floorboards of the old building
Years ago and dreams
You were there

Because you were in the room of the pyramids
In the palace of red metal
Before the memories of children
You came

Because you remained in the park of cool shadows
In the neighborhood of endless houses
Before the puddle of blood
You stayed

Because you stood in the fire of returning home
In the heart of silence
Before the most beautiful and final word
To me