it’s just true
that the world is different
with no
hope of you.

he can’t hide
the dreams in his eyes.
so i guess I’ll
lay on this flowered couch
and watch the birds
in a hall & oates love song rampage.

i can play something,
sometimes…
with a certain
semblance of structure.
it is all I can promise.

some kind of constant lurching.
some kind of wildly flailing
forging ahead.

there is nothing like the feeling
of the pen releasing the ink...
so i draw.

there is nothing like
the vibration, the song...
so i beat drums.

there is nothing like
a word falling into place...
so i write.

there is nothing
like this internal fire,
this inescapable light.

wake to dream.
let hips sing.
float in the stream.