|   1*      All, We                             |
|   2      Time, Find                      |
|   3      Second, A                        |
|   4      Minute, A                       |
|   5      Season, A                        |
|   6      Lifetime, A                     |
--------------------------------------
|   1      Faults, Find                     |
|   2      "Shoulda, A                    |
|   3      Better," Done                 |
|   4      Within, Somewhere      |
|   5      Heart, A                          |
|   6      Stronger, Growing         |
--------------------------------------
|   1      Said, "Easier                    |
|   2      Done," Than                   |
|   3      Put, To                            |
|   4      Aside, It                          |
|   5      Is, Now                            |
|   6      Time, The                       |
-------------------------------------
|   1      A, We're                           |
|   2      We've, Team                  |
|   3      To, Got                            |
|   4      Together, Pull                |
|   5      Up, Get                            |
|   6      Go, And                           |
*-------------------------------------

friday afternoon
hands raised
still colored and stained
with the paint
from yesterday

sitting
fidgeting
not wanting to wait

I live for this day


standing there
watching the same
the day
for which I live
day after day

asked to stand
in front of them

and so I say

for show-and-tell
I brought my best friend

an empty lobby... behind the counter,
no one waits
empty chairs gathered around
just taking up space
paper walls cracked with time
and stained with age
so this is home...

an outline
where the calendar used to hang
the clock
stuck at three
and the sun hasn't shone for days

behind the counter
in another room
a man breathing
like the air will leave him soon

hey, mister
i'm looking for somebody...
i was hoping you could help me...

the man gets off his seat
and as he shifts
without a sound,
the old chair squeaks
he finds his balance
and makes his way to me...

in his hand
a walking cane
across his heart
a darkened stain
the fear and tears he bares
he bares the pain

you could see it in his eyes
the eyes that don't see past time

one foot in front of the other
one step, and then another
walking backwards
backwards in time
he takes his
and time takes him

he reaches the counter
and looks me in the eye...

he speaks his words
like a sweet soft song
he speaks with a half-smile
to hide all that's wrong:

up the stairs,
the second floor
on the right,
the second door...

he listens...
as i make my way to where he led
he listens...
painting a picture in his head
he listens...
to all that's dead

up the stairs,
the second floor
on the right,
the second door

deeper...
the heat draped in the sky,
the stars still in the night
deeper...
deeper into gray,
deeper and further away

the curtains
on the window down the hall
open, just to let the dust in
then let it fall
gathering with time
like missing pieces to a plan
never to see the same place again
from where they first began

the walls like jagged stone
edges chipped away
discolored with the tint
of never seeing day
and yet,
the night still fades

deeper...

calling up from the bottom,
up from the first floor,
an old voice in heavy gasps:

she checked out
some time before

and so i stand...
a stranger at the second door

back against the wall
the ground weightless beneath my feet
my head buried in my hands
listening...
...a beat

between the cracks and gaps
falling to the ground
falling...
without a sound

in a casual masquerade
      we found ourselves
      the two of us, crowded and alone
      being the only ones exposed

we danced to music
      the both of us didn't care for
      we didn't mind, either, the windows
      half open or half closed

forgetting our footing
      dancing then broken by laughter
      i fell into your eyes, at first led my toes
      how we flowed, you flowed

how a boundary, our ceiling
      had fallen once more like shattered pieces
      of a mirror image no one really knows
      still it grows, and we're all alone

i lie awake and i
reflect on my affection
somewhat consciously...

though i write and breathe with
the same, flowing alertness,
my thoughts, however, are not as graceful...

i find you somewhere
within this maze, with its throbbing walls
and musty confusion
to which i find no end.
at every turn, i falter
and where most routes are chosen,
i find i'm becoming better acquainted
with the ground:

it's endless, senseless detail,
lack of order.
we have our similarities, he and i...
though, as i walk upon him
he ages,
as do i,
and in the lapse of time
we only grow closer
usually by falling
and leaving our mark behind.


this is my journey to you,
this is my journey through you:
may they both be led happily
and in the same way, end,
though all the while, happiness being
knowing that it never does

Stand tall, dark and peaceful Night;
fall not into the open arms
of the distant fading light,
for, like the sun, alarms
are, too, destined to set.
But instead, March on
through fields of dancing, green,
endless shamrock silhouette,
where the beds of dirt they rest upon
are, in waking, always the most serene.

Mediocracy...
these words I write
governed by a
standstill, at-war democracy
that's got me medio-crazy,
executively lazy
judgmentally hazy,
and lawfully spacey,
running on as their own prisoner-of-war escapees
in search of freedom from the ordinary
and overly, extraordinarily
conservative binds
that constrict the construction
of these hardly courtly,
yet ordered lines.

Summer picnic under maple trees
thru brunette wisps
blew the summer breeze

At the table up the hill sat the family
talking of what life was like
to be free

Ran by the lake in a summer dress
never having to stop
never having to rest

Stood at the shore dressed in yellow;
could feel the sand
between delicate toes

Sore eyes looked down at her and saw two
there, at her side
but no one there knew

Gently touched the girl’s hand
so she would come to understand
there would come a time for her too
there would come a time when she grew

There would come a time for the sunrise
and the summer skies too,
but too quick for sore eyes,
too soon

Now she reflects and remembers
what it was like
to be younger

And she wishes
she could feel the summer breeze once more
at that family picnic, down by the shore

Your Surface caresses – the face –
Warm when the Sun is high,
When the Storm brews – you’re like a Whip –
How the Stars and Moon weigh,

Affecting your Tide upon us
Your Voice – is convincing –
Your Whispers – like Salt – on our wounds,
Though, through castles – slicing –

Built towards the Sky – by guided hands –
Curling over, crashing
Onto – raw – from tears shed – your Storms –
Born from Vengeance – washing –

Tainting what is held at – the heart –
Walls – swallowed – by shallow
Bitterness forced – our way – footprints
Swept – yet – we will follow

Walking in place,
each step, an embrace:
my toes, to the floor,
then heel; once more.
Not forward nor back,
extension, contract:
changing position,
persistent, the stiction.
The weight of the floor,
a shiftable platform
below me, it mocks;
consistent, the clock.
Keeping time, keeping beat,
never complete.
Inside me, the race,
quicker than pace.
Inside me, the surge,
more to discourage:
pumping, through, and again
like steps, now and then.
Forward, though same,
it is here i remain.

In the panes of her window,
reflecting, resting on her elbow,
she wonders if there's meaning
in that circumstantial meeting...
A faltering, so fleeting,
as the caress of their eyes
unveiled in each a soft disguise:
tiny blue planets, blanketed by sky,
graceless in their natural orbit,
revolving her every plane, looking to explore it...
Decelerating in search of her balanceable center,
clumsily gravitating almost against her,
a pair of unsettled, timid satellites
passing both slow, and at the speed of light...
Two beautiful, flickering, twinkling stars,
both six feet close, and light years far...
Her own tiny brown comets in a dusty trail descent,
averting, avoiding the light, reflected and bent.
She, aligned in that momentary eclipse...
a time and a space she chose to dismiss.