I broke open the moment
and found I was looking in the past

small cheap rooms where you walk
down the hall to the
bathroom can seem romantic to
a young writer.
even the rejection slips are
amusing because you are sure that
you are
one of the best.

but while sitting there
looking across the room
at the portable typer
waiting for you on the table
you are really
in a sense
insane

as you wait for
one more night to arrive to sit and
type Immortal Words--but now you
just sit and think about it
on your first afternoon in a strange city.

looking over at the door you
almost
expect a beautiful woman to walk in.

being young
helps get you through
many senseless and terrible
days.

being old
does
too.

what will you do with your freedom?
build a gilded cage?

someone famous said "seize the day"

and I seized it with all I was worth.

i know, i know
it doesn't seem so
but your judgement's clouded
just like mine
it's about time
we take inventory
of the things we hold dear
and year after year
they change, transform
learning to move with the waves
instead of hiding in the caves
it's hard but necessary
it allows transcendence
it's about bending

like smooth velvet words
on satin blue skies with white *******
painted with corn cob silks
upon a  backdrop of the
brightest hues of yellow red
the contrast of a mauve overhead
glares
when the sky turns green along
comes  that starry night
of Matisse eyesight and Van Gogh
splashing
down to earth to soil
in awe my mind made all
it possible
the midnight majesty and celestial gazing
just here right now
on plain
mother earth

The plump moon lights up my room.

My mind is now a flat graph
no desire no lust no dream

the cold winds from the rumbling sea
make no dent on me
I look at my palms
and see the cracked floor
gnarled roots of mangrove on the wall
blend seamlessly with all I have
like once I had her in this room
love together
taking wingless flight to the moon
but now I more like sitting here
prospecting no words to rhyme
not angered at the blankness
for in this vacuous moonlight
I wait without a hope of gain
without a despair of loss
unconstrained for time
contoured by fireflies
alone
recounting a new beginning
from the end.

through words,
I heal my wounds
by completely exposing them

as we
loom
our hands

tethered
like a
cat's
cradle to
the sky,

a slight shift
of foot and
the landscape
scatters
drunk
as the blue
seas of the
cloud,

the tide
strides to
the open shore,
wind in her
arms,
salt on her
breath,

every step
decadent and
rebellious,

every sip of the
wind an icy
storm,

and the sky
hangs like
a pendulum
in an old
grandfather
clock,

calling out
crazy minutes,
breathful
seconds,

i stand next to you,
knock on the door
of the airy sea
stare out,

curve like
an echo in a
cave,

a handwritten
poem, carved
out of air

while you,
boy of dream,
kiss me like
a wild sea,
restring the
broken violin
of my heart.