The blade of light attacked my closing eye lid and revealed the morning sun to my open eye.  I awoke with the first thought of going outside with my brother to play with the new toys we got for Christmas.  We did just that, as our backyard became a world itself as we flew our hypersonic jet and war helicopter over the forest carpet grass.  There was no worry that could destroy this moment. Just two brothers playing in the winter Texas sun.  That backyard was full of stories like that.  I often look back to them and find my worries dissolve away.  Strange how beautiful moments such as those could cut through the storm of worries as the sunlight cut through an open spot in my curtain to wake me to a new day of play and joy.  It's as if those core memories had been kept to remind me that happiness is always there.

the hidden staircase fascinated me,
the wooden steps, oak panels on the wall,
behind an unexpected door you couldn’t see,
a narrow entrance in the spacious hall.
who ever would have thought to find it here,
a masterpiece of silent secrecy,
whose trepidation full of pounding fear
climbed up those stairs in frightened urgency?
while candles drip hot wax from chandeliers
they gallop in the night, the carriage wheel
leaves furrows in the mud, whose trembling ears
await the sweeping toll-bells heavy peel?
and as the night drifts ever closer in,
who bolts the windows, deafens out the din?

i’ve blown all my dosh
on a brand new Bosch!
my clothes will be super clean
with this amazing new machine
i’ve burnt all my dosh
singing swish, swash, swosh,
singing splish, splash, splosh,
a ladies got to wash!
i’m in love with my new Bosch!

Again, with those lights in the sky.

Ghost like jellyfish that float on by.

They fly so high they become the stars.

I see ships pass by shaped like cigars.

What begins to make sense makes no sense at all.

The starlight resonance is simply just a cosmic call.

All this from nostalgia and thinking ahead.  

Listening to music while I lay in bed.

boy, i give you a blowing rose,
a glittering star,

the autumn shakes and glides,
hangs on leaves, waters the
sun,

the stars tremor in the water,
breathe of sky and silver bird,

the night is a closed eye, a
river of frost,
where the dark, born
of root and winding dream,
stretches like a flower,

in our love we found a
leafy woodland lane,
we strided the skies like
birds of dream,

love hung from our lips,
the white ribs of the breeze
holding our burning hearts,

love so raw it flowered,
opening out like an origami
swan,

the shadows lengthen,
dissolve into wooden gate
and hollowed out tree.

the night’s stones weigh
heavy like the cloud -

everything sinks.  

the cry of a bird -
eerie like a ghost -

the night speaks
of autumn, of windows
now shuttered to the
stars, of leaves painted
silver and gold.

a cat wires his claws to the
dark, drops down from a wall,
lands with his fur full of sky.

and so
he cracked him in the head
with the pool cue,
now,
it's your  game,
he said to the man

and walked out of the bar
song birds were singing
and  he delighted
in dark shadows overtaking empty streets
in the distance
a dog did howl,
found that fascinating
the barking of a dog distant and growling

he bought a lottery ticket
got the numbers from
the obituary page
of the asbury park press
never checked the numbers
never wanted
too

on longs peak
he made it to broadway
when the hail came down
and the ledge
was coated with ice
and the view
down to chasm lake
was obscure
it tickled a lonely spot
in his imagination
and the ledge was where
he always wanted to be
he had figured it all out
the in s and out
of never giving a ****
the cards we are dealt
at birth
are marked


one day i saw his
picture
on the obituary page


and he had the BIGGEST smile