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Art Apr 22
At the far edges of night skies,
colors blinked against their eyes.
and cried for them
an ethereal song.

Lost in the endless hues
of reds and blues,
the two laughed and danced
for what he wished was forever.

Two souls lost in the vastness of space,
Together amongst the impossibility of existence,
They somehow found each other.

They spun and flickered
like the star that glued them tight,
if just for that night.

And when she grabbed his face
and lulled him in,
he was lost.
Fell into her kiss
under Sirius.

And when she followed his eyes
up to the benevolent sky,
I love you
crept into his ear.
And she was gone.
Rediscovered after one year.
Art Sep 2018
Foundation of existence
an exponential presence.
Gravity’s graceful hand
glues us together
like wet sand.
Presses us into spheres and
let’s us fall where we may.

Molded from mud and clay
Born of the Earth and falling
along the bend of space,
lulled by the face of the sun
and dizzy by the spin of the Earth,
we fall in love
along its starry string.

The foundation of existence.
we fall and then
fall again. Dropped along
gravity’s bending string
we fall and spin
Faster and faster
Desperately searching for meaning
Some part of that string to holds onto
us and calls us their own.

We fall in love.
Tying ourselves to that fleeting string
so it may stay.
So it won’t fall away.
So caught up
We glue our muddied hands
to disappearing strands.

So caught up
we lose ourselves to gravity
and fall at the speed of life
so fast we forget to slow down
and look around.
So fast that we might miss it.
Art Aug 2018
At times I wake in dreams.
At times I’m the observer.
At times I don’t remember.

There was a time waking felt like nothing.
There was a time living was observing.
There was a time days were black.

Time walks on.
Time will move its legs and drag you across the floor.
Time won’t look back and tell you things were missed.
Time is merciless.

This time I’ll fill my eyes with color.
This time the black will come alive.
This time I’ll live.
This time I’ll wake.
Art Jun 2018
When matter reflects on itself,
consciousness materializes
into something more tangible
and realizes all of existence
is floating above its head.

Matter turned and governed
by gravity’s hands.
Spun and pulled by
creative fingers,
shaped into round colorful bodies and
tossed into blackness
to dance alone.

Some are given partners,
little moons to set their mood,
to spin their silvery light around them
and sing their songs at night
to put their children to sleep.

Some stay awake for the song,
some watch their slow dance,
and some look up at the milky sky and
wonder if matter thinks about them back.
All it took was a night out in the deep woods
Art Nov 2017
It rained when she left.
I didn't even love her.
So why did it rain?
Haiku of a parting friend.
Art Sep 2017

I looked at a face
no longer there.
A frozen smile,
familiar and warm.
Once young,
now old.
Gone with time and
long forgotten.

Eyes lingering on  
pasty ink
paled by rays of sun.

Cradling a frame of a
foregoing time,
fingertips brushing
against a landscape once familiar,
now faded.
Art Sep 2017
Crack on concrete
Losing his feet,
slipping on sweet
sweaty poison.

Man's head down
blood on the ground.
Phone's background;

a daughter's face
smiling behind
shattered glass.

Red tears
make their smears
on creased cheeks

as he looks back down
to the phone on the ground
unable to make sorrow's
humble sound.

He looks around
Broken down
and stuck to the ground.
Ankles cracked and twisted as
he's lifted by three strangers;

lost souls
who forget their woes
for just a moment

as they sit him back down
on the ground,
and watch him cry
as they call for help.
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