.
We are born,
There is some joy
Lighting a tiled room
And the first cry echoes
In the spray, sterile hollows.
A woman simpers, flush
And torn, whimpers, softly,
Under the phosphorescences
Of terror and delight, where
A man sees his own doom
Fast approaching as he weeps
With measured happiness
And one foot by the door.

Little creature, welcome
To the world, make up
Your presence known,
Bulbous and brightly
As melons in the sun,
Waiting to be plucked
With another lover
Indifferent as you,
Arbitrary as any name
Grasped for, looked up,
Placing you into this
Home of strangers,
This globe of shadow,
Shining dimly, eyeing,
To name you quick,
Holey, somewhat
Real.

Birds in High Sierras Reign
Calling Winters Heart
No Blame
Living Lifted Loving Free
This Stair that Rose
Behind that Tree

Lovers Carved Theirs Names
In Trust
With Vows of Care.
And Nights of Lust

Its Up the Stairs  
Past Lights Well Known
To Seek Hearts Mysteries
Beyond What's Grown

New Dreams
Öv Ancient Wisdoms Z.  
Past X and Y
Now Joined as Three

In tThanks we turn
With Mountains Share
Best Wishe is Friend
Be Blessed All Care

Dearest moth,
Just a week ago,
I feared you.

The way you bounce against things And recuperate
Like it never happened..

But now I see why
the hurt never bothered you.
Your only goal is a search for warmth
and light.
And nothing gets in your way.

I feared you.
But now I think
that everyone should be
just like you, Mr. Moth.

9/8/16

Filling a void
I cannot identify
Trying to make meaning
of days wasted, afraid.
I waste away, waiting
I pray I am not as dreadful
as you used to make me feel.
Part of me used to laugh,
the thought of someone else
dictating how I felt sat lightly on
my lips and made them curl,
like pastel rose hips, I smiled,
no one would make me feel
anything,
but now I barely feel at all.

when the last line is written
when the last rhyme is pulled from the bowels of that…
place
when the brain burn and the message is to my liking for now
i will return to the folded arms comfort of night
pick out a star and float to it
sleep

unlike the wicked warmth of tequila
or *******'s almost passive attempts to own me
the word is my true addiction
the insidious hold it has
drawing me in
calling to me every waking moment
i fear the whispers will not end in death
and i shall face an eternity living the nightmare
of an incomplete batch of words
that hold the key to my missing life