The bitter cold came
quickly; it arrived on
the brittle fangs of snow in
October, falling before
Halloween ghouls or the
Advent of December.

We locked ourselves in
that Sunday, watching
it coat the sidewalks
while the little one
knocked blocks together
in front of the fireplace.

You sipped coffee,
crossed-legged on the floor.

And, I swear, no
August heat has ever
made me feel as
warm
as the bitter cold
that came quickly
in October.

This is the other side of sanity!
I think to myself,
a riddle in the middle of chastity, vanity?
what is it that I have to say?
Is this not another day or is it a play?
Vaguely we are tossed into this
post hence I have seen the other side-
this day with you...this day that never came.
I will not be able to tell the difference of pleasure
or pain.

I am still lost dreaming on to the memory,
you stood there in the middle of high school square
doe-eyes intent, hidden behind you're intense
endless hidden truth, your boyish youth.

A dream of gazing into those eyes some day,
I never wanted to say goodbye or go away,
this world carried me to the "other side" and it was
"too late," I was unable to "succeed." Who am I
to seek this "other side?" In the sky?
What we never do? Call this "side" what you will,
but in the end I would have gladly battled madly
through hell for a chance to share your world with you.

Oh, here I go again, blithering sadness, sad poem!
Look to the skies when you're alone, then maybe
on the clearest of nights when this whole world
they've built of stone is gone you will finally find out
how beautiful you are so.
Even if I never got to see you understand this or
spend another day with(out) you...you are all
I can't get off my mind no matter how hard I try
I will continue to see you can't forget you
Even in my wildest

Just in for this season, darkness and light
They cascade over the hillside, that drown in
Moonlight. The jewels that fill the sky are
Scattered remnants of a pretty dream, one
That apparently won't come true. This is the
Meaning, never use the words "I do," unless
You really know you're ready to.

The past
It's always on my mind
The grassy backyard I grew up in
This and that-memories of
Halloween, rabbits, fall, you.
All the things that pass in time.
I pick up this notion that
One may recall what happened to
Them when they were a young kid.
The balloons touching the ceiling of
My pre-school, the quiet time when
We supposedly slept but never did.
Like the color yellow, how I loved it,
The '89 earthquake, being shocked by it.
Songs in Kindergarten. Art, pictures, music.
Summer camp, exploring the wild, love, light,
And wind. I remember my brother
And I playing tag as the sun went
Down in the first house I moved in.
Running along the fields in the day,
Swimming, or memories of the
Tumbleweeds performance,
Being In the play.
All of the times I would always
Watch the sun on the swing as it rose
In the morning. I remember the vast
Wheat fields, a sense of calm quiet,
As if there were no place more peaceful.
Climbing my favorite pine tree in my back yard.
But one thing I remember more than ever
Was being on a field of my own.
The sky is filled with clouds always
Floating off like they
Were from an endless world of tranquility,
This warm sun, this was and-I forever remember
It to be-my one true home.

But that is another story...

Rain on me,
I have been longing to be free.
Lost in my world, needlessly.

Rain on me,
I am tired of fighting but I will not sleep.
I refuse to be reigned and I refuse to be a sheep.

Rain on me
and show me the way.
This place is empty and I cannot stay.

Rain on me
because it has been too long.
I am sick and tired of pretending to be strong.

Rain on me,
I want to see the lightning pierce the sky.
As the thunder roars and the clouds fly.

Rain on me.
Let the winds take my mind to another land.
No one needs to know and no one needs to understand.