I remember
it was fog and
then it was light and
I was already falling
outside of myself
thank you
for showing me
the way back
thank you
for wonder
with it
I write poetry
everyday

hilarious,
when you try
to ink it
being a foreigner
to a language...

you search
for the round spell
of a word
and to your mind
comes, oh my,
only one
- squash!

but oh!,
the buttery sound of it,
the reddish orangeness of it,
the elyptic splashes in wood
scented fields, november cold
mornings, that yearn
of a smoking cheminy,
home, others' home, there.

what was there to be inked?
i don't recall it.
i got squashed.

a crooked ugly man walked up
and said "all hope is spent
i'll build a wall and save you all
and be your president

believe me, i can cure all ills
and make all merkins proud
if you'll just take this oil of snake
i sell to every crowd

for any lie becomes the truth
if you but scream it thrice
so plant the seed then others bleed
and you don't pay the price

come spend your vote to buy my line
of prejudice and hate
ignore the churl of all the world
we'll make our nation great"

a machinating woman comes
the way her husband went
"i've done no crime i'm next in line
to be your president

you see how he goes off the rails
and nothing said is true
i can't shoot straight, i fabricate
but never lie to you

lost last time when set to win
this time did what i can
and worked my scut to undercut
an inconvenient man

we're dealing from the bottom, folks
the country's gone to ***
i may not be the best there is
but i'm the best you've got"

so laugh about it, shout about it,
when you've got to choose
your **** is hoist on Hobson's choice
the poison or the noose

Come to me with tears, my eyes have cried.
Laugh until you hurt, I've been that manic.
Deceive me if you can, I know the lies
we tell ourselves in fear. I will not panic.
Pound my chest in anger, feel my strength;
know I know your pain, yet do not feel it.
Tell me of your breaking heart at length;
words absorbed and heard the salve to heal it.
We together know we can survive;
after all, we'd chosen different roads and
gone our separate ways just to arrive
in time to hold up one another's loads.
You think you weigh me down, yet do not see
my burden's lighter when you lean on me.

A dozen chairs
haphazard
in the service entrance
the boss says
you can have
any or all;
the junk man comes tomorrow.
None are broken.
Perhaps too firm,
or too soft,
not supportive enough
or someone
just couldn't get
comfortable
with this one.
The one I found
on the third try
is plain and strong,
has my back
where needed
and holds me
at the proper height
where I see best.
Strange who
some will toss aside
as worthless.

I listened to the sounds of a nights life as it was on truest display.
On yet another dead end night.
No deadlines, no friends to annoy, no voices to echo shattered thoughts together.  

Long since had the audience grown cold and I simply deaf to their presence nothing drowns an ego worse than the reality's of a distant storm.

I listened like a ghost story.
A child's fears matched only by the amazement of what never could be and the night kept rhythm with my soul as emptiness washed the troubles aside for now .

Sometimes nothing.
Holds you closer than any lover shall.

We are lost to our thoughts and me just lost for the sake of being gone.
I enjoy my distance now the wolves can call but no longer do I feel the burden to run .

Nothing is as peaceful as knowing the hand doesn't have to yearn for the pen.
Simply let the thoughts go as they linger in seconds my hours were never wasted .
For what never was could never be lost.

Time tells me I'm done .
And the night simply speaks to me in gentle whisper of darkness .
Be bound not by shackles for now you are free .