you can bend my leaves
until they crack; inflict
creases upon my skin
until i'm no longer
readable

tear my spine
into a thousand
pieces and scatter
them across the bay;

where the sad girl
goes to lose
herself in thought,
'it's shallow' she thinks
as she stares deeply
into the pond

only the crushing
of gravel can be
heard beneath the
bridge

her feet pacing
back and forth,
traveling
like light
between choice
and decision

i throw empty
plastic bottles into
the water, making a
wish as they descend
towards their hell

i empty my shell,
or what's left of it;
break each
bone in half,
let my breath
hang in the air
like the death
of the sun

'it's worth it'
she says,

drawing lines
in the sand,--

only boundaries

the half-shattered

can see

I have a feeling
That if I had said those three words,
You wouldn't have said them back.
And I would be sad;
Because that would mean that the
Magic of us would be over.

What weeds
cannot be taken out
none
all things
can be shaped
to perfection
depending
on how you define
perfection.

I met the man by chance on that riverside town.

The only one around at the deserted strand
I asked him the shortest way out
after I had my fill of the river.

He told me about the fish market
where the fresh catches arrive every morn
and the place ten minutes farther north
where if I slowed down
could catch the magnificent spectacle
of the orange orb thirstily dipping in the river
and if I stayed back for the night
would surely go insane
when the moon sets the river on silver fire
but if I was really intent on leaving
a half hour's drive would get me the highway.

I was thinking of the amazing mathematical probability
of my traveling over three hours to see the river
and his traveling ten minutes on a bicycle
to fetch his son from school on that riverside town
for our once-a-lifetime meeting on the life's highway
and then having him a permanent visitor in my memory
at sunsets and moonrises over the river.

We are all bound by life's great adventure
Put your hand up if you want to get off
Let those who remain ride the rollercoaster

A butterfly flutters through the streetz,
Above the dried bloodstains;
Its wings bat away toxic breaths
Perverse and untamed.

A butterfly flutters through the streetz—
Great beauty of little worth.
Through tear gas, dodging bullets
With wings like the Fellbeasts of Middle-earth.

A butterfly flutters through the streetz,
No smile, no glance, no words to speak.
It wipes away a child's fresh tear
As it passes by its cheek.

He walked the streets a begger
they buried him like a king
he played a six string guitar
he wore no golden ring

She had the voice of angels
survived a valley called death
then fearing no evil
she passed every test

They wrote the songs with sunsets
they walked the line together
they stood in a ring of fire
in love they burned forever

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