I want to roll up the
moon and fit her
in my pocket.
So she can sing me
to sleep with
no sound at all.
Then I'll jump on birch
branches like the boy with no
baseball and swing till their quiet arms
dip low and moan-
"please child, enough-"
because I don't know limits.
It's so strange and
Knowing something near but unknown has departed;
Knowing there is a heart that won't be restarted.
Hold your moments-children's glass marbles,
Sparkling in the river water-
Like precious stones.
A soul I never knew left the world yesterday; four is always too young, but the innocence forever suspended is beautiful. Rest child.
It's as simple
As a feeling
And then not.
It's as different
As the seasons;
You make me sick.
I hide my heart
Like a loaded
The burning fire, neith all the words we 'er spoke,
And the thrumming of the trees, that we mistook ,
The ports are cold round here my love,
I'm all alone at the boundary.
A verse to a song a never finished writing. Maybe I will one day.
Sometimes my mouth runs
and my mind ceases to
follow the incessant
rambling that spills so
ferverently from snapping
And there are some nights my
voice hides-buried so far into
my chest I've no choice but
to silence my tongue and
to scream in my
Rise up and walk-
None of your bones are yet broken.
Cold, soft, dusting skies,
Sweep away the gentle night.
Rich violet brings promises of the dawn-
Glittering stars grow quiet-then are gone.
The lulling whisper of the sand
Silences itself, once again.
Lays dormant and muted at your feet,
Voices submitting to enveloping sleep.
Soon the sun will scream it's rise,
And blaze relentless across empty skies,
Beat down upon empty land;
Beat down upon empty man.
And I'll wait patient-I'll wait for dark ,
Wait for the noise of day to depart-
And in its wake the cocooning reprieve,
Of the endless, satin star-lit sea.