Clouds pass and reveal
Distant stars and inky void
We write constellations
Upon the very heavens
While terrestrial worries
Take root in weary hearts

The words we use
Are hollow expressions
That fail to grasp
Deeper melancholies
And sweet truths
But suffice for directions

All I have to remember what we had
Is this faded and scratched photograph
Time has taken its toll on us
And now a cursed stain veils you
Leaving only a me who looks ahead
At all the memories we would make

Bare branches bend
To scratch and pull
While cold frost clings
In grass and breath
Footfalls crunch and shatter
Except in that patch of late fall sun

The tears I cry
Are for the parts of you
I no longer remember
You try to remind me
With photos and journal entries
The mementos of a stranger

My hand your shoulder
Your hand in mine
Green eyes lock blue
I push you move we step
A scratch a falter
We giggle and sigh

My world is painted
By myraid dreams
Wry and stolen memories
A picture created
By someone who forgot
How it all went together

I wake up
Unsure of the where
Yet driven with why
The path is clear
This is not the first
3000 times I've tried

I write because
This sorrow wells
To overflow the chambers
Of a heart already
Sectioned and cold
By loss upon loss

I only have until
This flame dies
The wax is old
Flame sputters weak
There is a breeze
Yet still it burns

Watch the starts turn
The horizon bends
To swallow them whole
The moon rises and runs
It can only run so long
The dance resumes tomorrow

There is a pull
From where I know not
It demands attention
It has hooked my soul
My body cannot follow
I am rent in twain

The lake below the ice
Is another world
Teeming with alien life
Inhospitable to me
But come the spring
I will be an interstellar traveller

My dream is hers
Her memories come too
She calls herself me
The stranger stares back
Our worries feedback
She cries to sleep

I used to think
That I could be alone
Cool and aloof
The outside observer
But it is just missing out
In fancier clothes

The pages I journal
All begin the same
But the mistakes I make
Are always different
Cast as a character
Trying to break the loop

Days like revolutions
Return to their origin
The wheel can travel
But the point remains
Fixed in structure
And spun in limbo

I walk the halls
Of the youth I recall
But all the paintings
Are memories of yesterday
And many other yesterdays
And the halls take turns
That I cannot recall

It repeats
It repeats
It repeats
Stay away
Take me home
Don't forget me

Now I only see you
When eyes blink
And light is censored
So now I pray
For final rest
In dreamless sleep

We all dance and sing
To sounds unheard
And rhythms felt in flesh
Like one we move
And though our distance grows
We are timeless bound
In a sacred heritage
Of genetic expression

I carve my love
In broken and decaying bone
Promises scratched in red sand
On worlds distant
And lacking atmosphere

I cannot fathom
The distance your message
Had to travel through space
Only to be discarded
Out of the basic fear
Of being alone

Carried away by the ocean
To sights far from shore, on
The swells of sweet-blue brine
And waves like skyscrapers
Help, o' rescuer mine

Carried away by the ocean
Like a flea on a dog
On an elephant sea
A small life, determined
By whim, fate or fancy

Carried away by the ocean
Or drowned, a ship scuttled
Car'ed away, or Taken?
I fear this no nightmare,
no green world to wake in

Carried away by the ocean
Me, a thought, Me afloat
A salt breath in, rhythm
Eyes up, not ocean blue
A floater, white phantom

Carried away by the ocean
Sudden, tumultuous
roar, crash, repeat, closer
Closer! hum, whine, mouth sounds
Pull, no Wet. warm. Answer.

The sun sets behind too many trees,
inverted needles stabbing at the sky

The sky bleeds, crimson then rose then amber
As blue fades into violet, and the forest becomes blotchy

Thick ink dropped in water, cloudy
and almost impenetrable, then translucence is consumed

Memory is this way
The way I remember you, is this way

A bad taste on the tongue,
sour milk, moldy bread, tang

I once tried to paint with my memory of you,
and the colours ran, mixed, stained my canvas

I've painted over you a few times,
but you're a scar

The sun sets behind too many trees,
I can't see it, save for the shadows

soft and lustrous, these colours decorate
like stars of a feather, all wrapped together
if i close my eyes, they begin to swim
tight in a spiral, they spin and spin
each colour a story, vivid and rich
amber - a cobbler, poor and overworked
blue - a priest, with sermons of doubt
and that green, and this red
a tapestry woven in luminosity

with the darkness of winter closing out our days
so too is winter's bite, silent, invisible
mandibles of frost and hypothermia

at first the pressure is light, even pleasant
an embrace, and we welcome it
until it starts to hurt

the chill eats at your fingers, your nose
a cold consumption
of unprotected flesh

there is no fighting, no hiding
only waiting, and freezing
winter is long, and winter's bite - patient

An ever-flowing chalice
of thick red wine
You could choke before you drown
Damnation in excess
Devilry in revelry
Plenty; a curse
Revenge is in the tannins

Imagine a cream coloured sky
(is actually quite frightening)

When pale, deep, and sky blue vanish
we are forced to question the stability of our world.

Now imagine a friend who has vanished,
or a lover has lost interest,
and isn't that kind of the same thing?

Or what about the temperature climbing higher,
or the oceans getting bigger.

The number of bees getting smaller,
and all the trees that we're harvesting.

Why does change need to be dramatic before we take interest?
Why can't it be small. Incremental.

Reaction these days is necessitated by crisis,
and not an everyday shift towards disaster.

We are comfortable with the everyday.
It is predictable. And comfortable.

But a cream coloured sky...
Now that would scare us into action.

if i knew that whichever way i travelled
i would still come back to this crossroads
would the journey matter at all? No,

unless i was not the same, carrying
the new disease of experience,
wisdom, and enlightened by perspective

then would this crossroads be the same,
if i were different? would i not pass on
this illness, to infect someone else?

if i knew that no matter where i journeyed
i would still return to this crossroads
would my travels matter at all? Perhaps

if i were changed, mutated
by the infection, with imagination,
creativity, and enlightened by relationships

then would this crossroads be the same,
if i were different? would i not pass
this blessing, to better someone else?

at a crossroads i sat, and pondered a syllogism

No welcome mat adorns the threshold of this house, whose stolen curtains leave gaping holes in the privacy of a building, stripped of laughter. The night peeks in through open doors, and rotted walls, where once soft incandescent light illuminated: a family portrait, childhood masterpieces, and a bookshelf once filled with books worn by the love of three souls who enjoyed nothing more than the peace and quiet of Saturday afternoons devoted to the exploration of their favourite author.

Along the North wall, where once the girl's bedroom sat proudly, gleaming with the banners of musicians and musicals, now rests rubble and ruin. Bereft of purpose, the house is weighed down, with the shame of being unable to shelter its family, with remorse from not withstanding, with guilt from the failure to hold together a family that deserved more than the inextricable truth that a life lived fully and completely in youth and virtue must come to a stop fully and completely.

No welcome mat adorns the threshold of this house, whose drawn curtains provide an honest glimpse into the life of a family, stripped of laughter. The day peeks in through an open door, across painted walls, where the soft morning light illuminates: a tough reminder, childhood innocence, and a bookshelf built with the  love and attention of now two souls who try valiantly to remember the peace and quiet of Saturday afternoons devoted to the exploration of their favourite author.

He ran
far from his home,
to free himself from pain,
of ruined love and broken trust.
Last night,
when sleep had come,
I tumbled inside this
old, recurring dream of the boy
I was.

It was
an old, frightful dream of my boy,
that I tumbled inside
when sleep had come
last night.
Of broken love and ruined trust,
to be free and leave pain,
to a new home,
he ran.

one evening while i sat alone,
i asked myself why.

what followed was a long explanation
of why i chose to avoid another

but still i did not understand
and bore a grave dissatisfied smile

the answer for one is also
the question for a second

but surely at the heart of the matter
there is a truth, a reason

but i did not understand

we are not all of us
in this together

but rather in all of us
are the pieces of a journey

it did not matter; the colour
of the stone beneath my foot

if it was still part of the path

What you hold in the palm of your hand.
isonlyasstrongasyourgrip

Your examination of life exists only as long as the balance between strength and understanding is maintained.

between cool fingers of life and death the fragile thoughts of something misunderstood learn to fear all they've ever known

the cage has only ever been what you make of it

here i am
(and here i'll stay)
close to your heart

for ever and a day

Time lost is time gained if lost in heart.
Love lost is love gained if lost in time.
Work lost is work gained if lost in love.

Whatever were we doing when children played games.
Growing up is the greatest sin we've ever committed.
Life passed us by when we thought to buy it.

You dig dig dig dig dig dig deep
It grows darker darker darker darker darker darker black
Stop. You've gone too far. You've been forgot.

Echoes
Whispers
Ghosts
and Death

Leave Me
Little
Time
to Sleep

Slumber
Tumble
Wake
and Dream

I Have
Much
to
Think Upon

New Day, New Dawn for all the pretty things the sun shines upon
Today, Tomorrow comes for all the creatures living in sorrow
Wither, Wander with all the questions I have to ponder
Blue sky, Blue sea for all the wishes that could ever be

Safety

                     is just where we go when life comes

a knockin'

The Big Lie behind clouded eyes

               (a great betrayal of the little truth)
               (that It's Okay)
          
                                       only we'll never believe ourselves
we'd rather trust the strangers who do not know

how could they? we've never shown them who we are

because we're safe and afraid

and all alone

                     but somewhere
                                                (inside)
                                                             fear is champion over hope

             love
             life
(all a prisoner)

Until we learn to say that It's Okay.

the season's young
not yet bittersweet        
and i sit and enjoy      
the promise it sings                  
with bated breath
and an impatience
etched in my finger
here comes my rain
to wash away a sin
as old as my soul
yet still in infancy
with much to learn
so it I will nourish
while I sit and wait
here on this bench
just short of home
yet too far to walk      
here is where i stay
and here i will die

I tread light (with a heavy heart)
footsteps brushed aside beneath my
laboured breath
now shines the sun 'cross my vagrant heart
(puts rest to idle flights of fancy)

shafts of brilliance decorate a face
(weary with a tear or two)
years ahead and years behind
scratch definitions of beautiful regret

I travel from there
to overwhere
and find my travels shy of fortune
(redemption, and sly contempt)

so soon enough I will smile
and you will smile
('cause home isn't far off now)
just another chore 'til forever more

the reminder that I'm still alive
found wrapped in my arms in dreary morning hours
night washed in stolen kisses, adventurous hands
and ticklish discoveries

passionateviolent moments of silence
as futures dance in shadow covered eyes
lips turning wry smiles at jokes told behind
a guarded heart

the inescapable quality of simple fond regard
a rush, a blush, and another quick kiss
traded for promises in tomorrow and after
that when I wake up you'll still be there

vapid hunger seethes in the loudlyquiet conversation
pattered out in hearts like morse code
rivers of circulation apart, the heat of our skin electric
secrets shared from old scars and dying wounds

to hold you dear is enough
replants the trees of my stolen forest
life rebuilds in moments then years
and all because of you

I will wade through the fire and flame
across the void, against shattering current
an arrow through the water, like so
I shall glide, unwavering, undeterred

I will wait through perdition and justice
against time immemorial, and chained truth
freedom knows no such strength
as that which I abuse in silence

I will serve through temptation and harmony,
evocations of fear tremble 'neath my resolve
my eyes pierce the unimagined veil
of love, loss, and suffocation

I will meet you on the other side of hell
scathed, battered, and bruised
a testament to eternity's inadequacy
in my devotion

the Coyote laughed at my joke
and said he had not heard it before

Whither wander you, Traveller
He asked with a grin full of rue,
baring sharp angled teeth
he teased the chill in my bones;
the numbing dread I was succumbing to

"to the End," I said, brazen tone lauded in ill-advised curiosity

Which End
retorts the Coyote,
my small fire dancing mischievously
in his timeless eyes

"Of my days,"
the river 'side my camp, sneaking by, made no move to intervene

Then I shall show you the way
He suggested
without much room for question

For I have been, and will be again
the soft fur shimmered with the stars reflected in the sky above

*and you are just beginning.

To the night wind I give
the embers of old love,
from letters on this pyre,
and cast off this burden
into bright, cleansing fire.

To the night wind I give,
full of fond memory,
a drawn and heavy sigh
of the man I once was,
to rise into the sky.

To the night wind I give
the last stalwart bastion
of the dream I cling to,
my old and worried dream,
that I could still love you.

To the night wind I give,
beneath starry witness,
and born in amber light
promise to discover
a true love warm and bright.

a tickle of the river rumbles on by
tearing apart stones that tempt languor
the whisper of the flame echos beside
shattering the enforced calm of night
the ripple of battle knits the sky
predator and prey embark in love
the sarcasm of nature building the framework
of piecemeal eternity entrenched in freedom
the cyclical angle of come and go
pout and moan with ardor
as the arbors bend and root
and with this sickening contradiction
this beautiful atrocity
life laughs at the weak, stamps out the strong
and heaves a shiver of mere satisfaction

I hear whispers in the walls
Chuckles behind the curtain
And now the ghouls have made their calls.

A gnawing doubt, cold and certain
That shadows stole away the light
My heart grows cold, a heavy burden.

This house now stands as a blight
A monument to some great fall
Lorded over by this wicked wight.

anytime the skylark sings
secrets flutter, take to wings.
agonized scars torn anew
bleed letters, words, and lies
over skin profuse with fragile trust.
veins course like rivers over falls
ends from beginnings
such sorrows beget little lamentation.
over trees the skylarks soar
bathing in the pale moonlight
every dulcet tone born from memory.
lonely shadows on the heart
overcome in love
washed away in song.

A conversation held in silence (Hello.)
between blue eyes and green, long stares and held breaths
subtle twitches of the finger, and tucking of hair behind the ear.

(What aren't you saying to me?) A long uninterrupted gaze,
and one heart hammering in my chest and yours (What am I to you?)
the growing fear that the moment might be lost
by blinking or a cruel sneeze.

two reflections of two frightened would-be lovers
trapped by (Anything? Please!) poor timing and failing
commitments turned to fast regret

the hushed silence fades with the rise of the soft din of (You are...)
comfortable chatter, the ambient (...very...) background of a private eternity gladly forgotten in favour of quaint fantasy (beautiful.)

(I don't want to go.)
and then nature kicks in and we breath simultaneously
like an empire we are crushed, the silent blossoming sun on
an unattainable horizon wilts and sets.

"Hi."

sunlight flits through a wicked, worn white picket fence
bathes fading green grass in the day's last outstretched fingers
casually it recedes, the pale radiance dips behind the crooked mountain
              and the flood of night rushes in to envelop me