Hey little dragonfly
I hope you know this ain't no lie
I know you got your superstars
And cozy elevator cars.

Hey little buttercup
You sure are one cute powerpuff
And I know That without a doubt
That you will always tough it out.

Ohh, we know I picked the coldest coast
Yet I can't say that I miss yours most
I swear I'll steal some devil's wings
Cause angels can be such slow things.

Not some bugs eyes on a stick and wings
Or a giant scaly scary thing
Your spirit and a heart of wind
That will burn and fly through anything.

Ash cannot shackle
These songs that burn within me
My musical chains

I wonder if I could here a sphere
And hurl that pearl back into your eyes
Or perhaps just one eye, a triangular kind.
Jumping from left to right and up the bridge of your nose.
A particular pose played by the pacing
Of these runes and spacing
Sewn together by punctuation skipping
Comma little closer and know
That I do not want the pearl, a dot, or its growing spots
Simply something similar to its glimmer
Solely that feeling of slowly spinning that sphere

Upon contemplative fingertips waiting to flick
Into an ear, that perfect whisper
That ticks and tocks for about a handful of seconds
Until bouncing hips are dancing to that kicking flick
That you wondered about so well

I should sleep
Yes, that would fix it.
It has all things a solution needs;
It passes time,
It restores mind,
And when I finally, quietly,
Think of nothing, world becomes so.
Yet I still watch the clock.
Until I lose count of stories
That could pass in a minute.
That alone proves today is not done
Night has only begun
Some of these minutes help,
Some of these thoughts distract.
For hours I would follow them all.
Some ancient statute composed
From apathy & empathy & delusions
To place myself as dark, darkest
Oil to feed
And burn for others.
I had thought- By counting all of the quiet truths,
That I could drift,
With same sureness
Of repetitive sheep.

I have counted into an hour
Past night, but darkness has not set
Still, I cannot sleep.
I want to pass time.
My habits return to counting
I want to restore my mind, body, and eyes
My instinct cannot be ignored-
It refuses.
I simply want to fix this
These truths tick and tock so loudly.
I must think to nothing
But
It is not world and worries that follow
It is morning and its meaning.
My morning
And my...dreaming

It is not enough to think nothing
It is not enough to image something

I want to rest and escape, knowing-
More than so, return with a day that I bring.

.                                                                ­                                                                 ­                         Excuse me,
                                                                ­                                                                 ­   What have you got there
                                                           ­                                                                 ­               That could pass time
                                                            ­                                                                 ­   On this drudging subway?

Well.
I stack the plays like baseball
              and wait
For more words to fall
                         It
                                       Doesn’t
            Take too many squares
                       Because
You will never see them all.
     My hints are already here
     Your count and a little more care-

                                                          ­                                                                 ­  Oh, hold on- there is no way
                                                             ­                                                                 ­   I could keep up with what
                                                            ­                                                                 You say, though this rhythm
                                                          ­                                                                I­s contagious.  How could you
                                                             ­                                                                 ­            Possibly defer to me?

             Simply concentrate your stare
                          From the velvet in your heart
                                       And fill in gaps from the start.
You have read them through
                                       And looked around
There is no need
            To feel confound
                         Ment to be found
           However,
Most                 importantly,

                     ­                                                 Discovered.

                                                    ­                                                                 ­                        Well, I am not blind
                                                           ­                                                                 ­            I must admit but your
                                                            ­                                                             “Simply” is not simple, one bit
                                                             ­                                                                 ­          So I do know of music
                                                           ­                                                                 ­             And the brevity of art
                                                             ­                                                                 ­        But what could happen
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                When we part? Am I
                                                               ­                                                                 ­          To find another mind
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                      Of your kind to
                                                                ­                                                    Progress this text now unfolding?

             Nonsense my friendling!
Adventure is yourself
                                      And so many places!
        That
        Linger
        And wait
        Spinning
                         On all every abandoned shelf.
Though I am not of the scent yet,
You can follow those sages,
We keep our promise Upon these pages.
                         To one day unravel
                                         These
                                               Tempestuous
                                 ­   Ages                                                          ­                                                                 ­       .

I am old chinese fireworks
Lit to fly and ready to burst
Handcarved dragon maw to the moon
Not a fire in a sky too low, too soon.
Not falling flames for the world
     To wonder,
          And splendor,
               Then routinely return
To that smoke
              stack
             stacked
                             for Mars.
     "Man, we're gonna need that moon sometime soon"
     "Yup, since we're already almost halfway there,"
                 they
                         say.
Was the last I heard before
                                           my fuse.
Turned to fuel for a change of language
     As I seek to speak
With Lady Luna's gentle carriage
We came to an agreement,
                                               a little one sided,
Cause she is always oh so terribly inviting,
Now falling fragments for the world
     To quake in its plates
          And gush its wailing gale
               Then her waters roil a riot
Upon smouldering creatures
That have got coal for eyes,
      And gold for glasses,
Blind.
     To this Earthen texture of past masses
Mastering textiles upon any form, or ghost,, of carcass,,,
Although Gaia may bury and forget
I must reveal Luna's barren
                                                parapet
As­ a flame is all that I see
Ways to show what a flame can be
Earth learns to burn, for me, and we.
Yet little, brittle, Mother Moon belongs to the sea.

First in bombastic burst of a scent,
Colours from these winds heaven had sent.
A lift in my head with these winds in your hair;

Our old magic (trickless) springs a hatless hare,
Faultless as firmament spins a perfect rose.
Colours that can thin any illusion, in our music rose-

Whirling where euphony may curse thorns and pains.
Worst is how these colours stain clear window panes,
Where darkness had deftly set how fire rules awe!