A colorful glimmer of Christmas lights
In a dark room in December hid my grandfather
From the life he had proudly gathered.
Silence was taken as a relief from the rotting flesh
And smell of decay
Which had sank into every depth of the home.
My grandmother’s troubled eyes searched the
Room for useless words to fill the winter night.
Outside the heavens were covered by clouds
“How are you doing?” My mother spoke nervously
To him multiple times and in the faded dark he repeated each
“I’m trying the best I can.”
The cancer had slowly taken away his strength and
The wrist loosened around the faded arm chair which he gently sank into
The mutation made its way into a tumor over time
On his left cheek and his bottom lip hung motionless
In the flickering light of the candle.
Even with the form of dying
A shade of life could be seen in his eye
And some words echoed from the deepest parts
“You look older with your beard” he said
With a grin that showed us all that his time was near.
I left my grandfather with a bend of my body
“I love you” and a handshake that led to a hug.
His final beat was felt on a Monday afternoon
And the winter distance separated us.
I came home for the funeral and all the
Women cried and the men stood quiet.
The priest took a request from my grandfather
And told a story…
I was three years old and my grandfather raised
Me above his head with force
Quickly rising and sinking me into the air
I flung between his arms
On the strongest throw I flew above his head and into the sky
And proceeded down through his slipping fingers
His perpetual eyes looked down on my falling body
“Andy hang on!” he said, knowing I was perfectly safe
I must have been climbing back up with fear because
In that moment with my innocent eyes full of life
I gazed up toward my grandfather
“Grandpa, I’m trying the best I can!”

An evening fear
--The stubborn tear--
The death of day has opened way.

The sun is low, the shadows long
The horizon sky a light blue purple
The frozen trees now naked free
Cling to every last ray.

Little tiny black dots to me
They climb and fight up to my knees
But every time I toss down my hand
And flick their tiny bodies away;
But evermore they continue to pest
And me to them the same I guess.

Has springtime’s child shed its youthful skin?
Have you not seen it there beside the shore?
Where the water rises from the soul within
And sunshine’s gracious warmth from it explores
This summer warmth seems crude to my belief
Like weary trees naked in falls retreat
Have you not felt ascending winter’s relief?
Have you been tricked in nature’s deceit?
Summer rays fall hard in burning succession
From a silent springtime never embraced
Where graceful winds carry away questions
Of a seasoned feeling never replaced
Youthful days have passed through this ancient land
Spring lay twisted in summer’s open hand.

These waves, brought to life in full color
Against the brim of a tropical sunset
Over the weary Gulf of Mexico
Washed white and silver foamed upon this shore
These waves; complete movement upon the ocean, devout servants
Endlessly caressing the pale, sparkled sandy shore
Endlessly ebbing and flowing through time, space
Through all of deep day and all of long night
Between the setting sun orange and blue
Between that of land and that of mysterious ocean
Between that of water and sky, now darkening sky
Always there caressing
A fine line overlapping, again and again
Riding the spine of earthly force
Crashing against this fateful shore
Gaining strength, losing strength
Gaining strength, losing strength
A constant force upon the land, twisting
Twisting and punishing the pale sandy beach
Twisting rocks and driftwood into new life
Rocks and coral grinded into red dust over millions of waves
Driftwood brown, turned into dirt and black soil
Life molded into liquid, life turned into permanence
A reminder of this strange reality, gravitation
That of which expires, that of which grows
Working on this exact beach, at this exact moment
Grinding and pushing, bringing reason to things
Bringing new to life, destroying old to life
Exposing ancient shells to the sunlight
Woven by a certain pressure, creating detail
Beauty in detail, made by the constant waves
Of which they shall one day destroy
And this very land, one day they shall destroy.
These waves, moving in, in blue and gold before the sunset
Stretched out across all of the land on earth
They have not ceased, they will not, they are relentless
They are innovation in each, beauty of this earth
This universe!
Waves moving in and out, for eternity perhaps
These waves, beautiful forms
Have me mocking the very air I breathe
Have me mocking the very thought of life and death.
(To the waves that crash on Jewel Key)

When the biscuit root raised
Its head to the unbashful sky
With white purpled eyes
And asked why. It was only
Then that spring, nothing but the
Sun and wind.

This, the last night of September
Moon over mesa in cool light no
Crickets left to serenate the
Stars.

Ruins on ruins on ruins
The past is but a sigh
If I could give up anything though
It would not be goodbye.

Ruins on ruins on ruins
What music drives you mad?
If it wasn’t for the loneliness
I wouldn’t be so sad.

Ruin of sunset ruin of
Moon night, last fragment
Of September in the air
Light as a feather and
Crisp as snow.

We gain immortality through death
Like snow through splintered sunlight