We were looking for an admonition.
Trying to find the end of the tape.
Now it’s like,
        all we see is a dim image.

I exist based on what my environment tells me
I became the guardian of a great river.

I see convictionless men
around me,
mere mortals.
We have to purge the glamour.

We dance
around
Slowly moving figures.

I'm going to open a restaurant that sells flavored cat blood
Build ice sculpture monuments to people never heard of
Crash drive a same model car into a rental center
I'm going to talk about the weather like it's always winter

I'm going to construct  a zoo with no animals
Burn down the trees and trap endangered species
Set bear traps in public places,  mock people with normal faces
I'm going to quip stupidly while tripping crippled old ladies.  

I'm going down with the ship, I have nothing to say
I'll hide in your bushes to surprise you with a cookie cake
I'll volunteer to help everyone just the same
Then I'll get drunk and not do a **** thing

I'll grab the yoke and be yelling
the nonsense of this life  
smiling as my teeth fall out
broken faced, all destruction and glee

I'll be laughing
The blood filling up the spaces of who
or where
or what  I wanted to be

I met a traveller, from the only land she had ever known,
she was a spring of joy to me with many far away steps along her path.
With such old eyes, that set like stone, so afraid of her own wrath.

Such a beautiful daisy in a field of burnt grass,
yet her stone eyes were fixed on the dead,
devoid of her own beauty, without glass.
Oh darling, there is light ahead.

I was the charred grass around her,
yet our meeting was so delayed.
till the thunder rolled and rain slashed did she stir,
and the traveller need not be afraid.

The forgotten grass soon turned to clean dirt,
oh my sister, I wont let you hurt.

When I was young,
     my mom braided my hair with purple ribbons
     every Sunday morning.
Her fingers trembled, tangled in my curls,
     but she kept braiding, twisting, tying
     until it was to her standard.
Nights like this, I miss her
     as I braid my own hair,
     And I can't achieve the perfection
Of those trembling fingers.

Sunshine yawns, stretches and cracks through the sullen black out curtains of december.
it shudders my eyes to see what's like an earthquake in the sky.
mighty cries of yellow and gold speed through the coal of my horizon like a bamboo vine
like the wrinkles and ***** of an old school football beaten and broken by the ***** shoes of nasty schoolboys
frightening the mighty oppressors.

Seasonal Affective Disorder

I walk
I with a capital I because the quake of light resolves my sadness for a second or two.

a stillness in the air that
all that is lost is lost
and all that is won is won
and all we can do is rejoice in the now.

the light
presses the skeletons of naked wintered trees onto the bus' window
now pale and murky with the last of the black frost.
their bony fingers wrapped around my bus with the natural cradle of a mother to her new born babe.
I am one.
white puffs of yes tickle the big blue pond of nothingness while
steel bands of gold stretch across what was once such a dark and frightening place where i would become withered and broken as a plant beside a patient,
dying with them.
stretches over me like I'm looking up from beneath the bridge
instead of down to the sea below.

the sunlight washes an old town in gold
making it clean again.
the darkness is over and the new has begun.
all we have to do
hell, all we can do
is absorb it.
experience it.
survive it.
my pestering thoughts join me in looking across at what has been the source or so many sleepless nights for me and others;
together in peace for a few tender moments,
a football game in 1914, Christmas day.
January is now
spring is now
life is now.
he is here.
sunlight has awoken and is laughing with me once more.
I am in love.
and I am happy.

the bells of spring
peel like the layers of darkness above my head.
life is infinite once more
and the sunlight dances on the grave of sadness
and the world plays in major chord again.