He writes poetry
But no one knows

He writes poetry
He writes about love
And loss

He writes about smiles
And frowns

He writes about sorrow
And forgotten towns

He writes about how lost he gets
Caught up in his own mind

He writes poetry to
And about others

But no one knows

Know one knows the depth of his soul
Because they all choose to see the exterior
And that exterior screams

Preppy
And preppy
Don't have souls

Or so they thought
Until the day he was consumed
By his own poetry

I had a dream about you last night.
You were laying in my childhood backyard.
I tried to pick you up,
but you were broken.
My mind refusing this reality
made you wake up.
You couldn't walk straight,
but you were your lively self.
Suddenly we were inside,
in my current home.
You jumped onto the couch;
Made silly noises like you always did.
But they were haunting.
My mind made you live as you are
body still broken.
Because you're in the ground,
and I'm roaming the earth looking for you.
Only to see you in my dreams.
At least I got to hold you
One last time.

All endeavors in life
need a start in Peace..
Peace is our experience
without the
thoughts and perceptions
which seem convincingly to
declare an independent world..
Another name is Silence
which all may experience
any time and any place..
That is the start..
Now appear words
of sameness and difference
which appear to break
the Peace and Silence..
Words bring longing
for that place before
wounding words unfold..
(The cosmic joke:
the place we were is
the place we are..?)
We await the arrival
of life's many teachers:
scripture and nature
neighbors and friends
an evening concert
a startling dream..
Teachers carry words
words as thorns
to remove the thorns
which hide the place
we long to return..
And finally: all thorns
burn in the glow
of returning Peace...

this dream repeats:
finding my way to a
place desired and finding
confusion and
pathways indistinct..
glimpses of the destination
and worries over delays
modify the dreamscape..
how to explain..?
perhaps the dream dimension
lacks the peculiarity of
the waking state and
non-locality is introduced..
a teaching may be there:
to welcome the undefined
the softened edges
discarding the map
finding satisfaction and joy
where I am...