Time comes and goes with ease
Every living day is a renewed lease
There's no time to be sad and morose
Be happy as the hibiscus and rose.

In the glaring sun they beam
A day for them is a dream
What if it's their last sunray
Their life is fulfilled in a day.

Without complaint they think it a gift
The one chance to give you an uplift
Know well with the setting of sun
Their intended work will be done.

Why can't we be like a flower
To do only good within our power
Spreading happiness and joy all along
To be remembered as one sweet song.

I'm on a Bukowskesque roll,
pounding the poems out
seven or eight a night.
I know it won't last.
It's like a fast.
It's the hunger that
drives you.
And when you're starving,
you eat--then rest.
Not today, though;

I've hit
my stride.
And the night is mine for
the taking.

And the words are mine for
the ******.
And my heart, I am staking
on the fact
that
I will stay
hungry.

It was another strange dream
Suddenly I found myself looking out an upstairs window at people arriving below
Then I thought "Wait a minute, where am I ? What house am I in ?
I don't have an upstairs, I live in a bungalow (only a ground floor)"

When I went downstairs there was this big Christmas tree up
I thought to myself "But I...I didn't put up my Christmas tree yet

And there were lots of people there and some familiar faces
And they all seemed to be smiling at me, as if accepting me there
As if there was nothing unusual, as if I belonged there.

It was like a party was going on
And then I seen my brother sitting amongst them all
One of his hands was bandaged
I didn't think it polite to ask him about it
Beside him was another younger relative
I was amazed astounded because this relative he had died a few years earlier, in an accident
Yet here... here he was right here before me

I thought to myself "This must be some kind of... some kind of Parallel
   Universe I'm in where things turned out differently"
It made me wonder was my own world  then just an illusion
It seemed so far away now... so distant

Suddenly I started to get a little afraid, I thought "But I don't know this world...this place
I don't... I don't belong here
How do I get out of here
How do I get back... back to my own world....  

Soon after this I awoke...again back in my own bed...back in my own world.

I rollover on the bed
face the wall
stare at the lines and cracks.

I give the wall a talking to,
tell me lies. I'll tell you my lies.

and i'm telling the wall,
the future looks bright. i'm planning
my own crazy, this time,

i use a black magic marker,
draw a wide rectangular
picture window across the white wall, then

sand, seashore, and sea stacks in the ocean.
can you smell the salt air?
i'm asking my wall.

don't look at me cracks,
like that.

the wall sighs,
and the bones of this old building
reply with a moan.

i'm inventing my own madness, so

look,
the sand pipers
are darting here and there
across the sand
avoiding the gentle lapping of the waves.

and the long wing shearwaters
flying low, gliding,
just barely above the tips of waves.

i'm planning my own foolishness.

some loves last for so long
like a song without a name
and you never know
when love will walk into a heart

and I'm going to run
far away
from sidewalk ledges
rooms with cracks in the wall,
far away from here.

and, Oh, wall, hang not the albatross around my neck.

the light, the faint curtain that draws across day,
far from night's shadows, creature of fire,

revolves, drops white nets into the sea-earth,
where ice and the aching frost cry out

and the soil hardens with its harsh, freezing edge.

we are deaf and blind, numb of limb
like the thin trees and the specter-sky,

blue and forlorn, dreaming our winter dreams...

and through the cold walls i can hardly draw
a smile, sad as a silver leaf the autumn forgot.

it is you who lifts me from the ground, somehow,
like an april shoot seeking the sun, somehow,

my bones as frail as a bird and yet
when the air stirs my blood and i stare into

the amber notes of the wind, the unforgiving land
buckles and breaks and i return to the

kernel of your heart and even the icy
lakes and the weighty forest you loved

under your skin that the light waits to
warm, forget their cold death, breathe

like summer returning to a distant shore.