I  , no more than a flurry in a Winter storm , or drop of water in a raging sea , alone , left to my own devices , entrapped in deafening solitude and sorrow ..A minute particle afloat , riding breeze , destination uncharted ,  skeptical apprehension , destined to become dirt , ingested , born anew , repeating nature's furious cycle forever......

The moon is missing
Old stories oppress the scorned clock's hand
What is this interminable waiting?
Lost are the World's metaphors
Lost and fled to a dark place
Once beehives born in new orchards
They now dissolve in time's dead way
And die in the viciousness of niceness
Densely social and devoid of empty
Do I dare ask these forbidden questions
She is missing, missing to me
I know where she is but I can't find her
  but now I see the harvest corn
  and a bursting city of goldenrod
            
  (this can only mean good)

slowly  carefully
as i might an ancient diary
still full of young dreams
and even  perhaps
the salt of young love

it hurts
to carry adolescent obstacles
given my age
and all those hateful skeptics
it hurts how they gleefully profane

yet settled dust is yet dust
i sit willing to love
amid my dust
i sit in ever deeper vasts of love
in existential sacrum wag
kindled crown and fullness breath of all the scents of varied forms of love

lighthouse toes inspire seas ancestors swam
lyric feet to message myth of travels won
my calves and shins  knees and thighs
  crawling climbing walking running jumping kicking at the start
physiologies of courage ****** ahead
as future unmade moulds invite
caress the bodied length intent provides

singing fingers scale my world in chords of gliding love
tips of arcing sensate dawns
diverse as nightsky suns

my palms divine an ever giving gift
no futures could unveil--
the toucher's touching touched
aligning novel insights  wordless as the womb of time:
perhaps a symbol flare could squint
and grant a vision of horizon's end--
another pleasure game
a bonsai love to soften age
another twisting meditation's emptiness in form
as motion stillness spaces words
to perfect pitches  tempos   sound
though all of which will never meet
and never meeting meet
as one

I've been waiting for you
To say those three words
That could change our lives
When me and you
Will become us...

n.e

Lilly's
     roses
all blushing
      naked among the
Begonias and daffodills.
    As much I love the peeling
skin red and white
      of the neighbor's
Sycamore.

A moment of silence for the castaway
for the sibling, and daughter they threw away
because there's always one black sheep
the one a family will not keep
pushed aside when they speak their truth
and, it all began in their youth
The Queen bee dismissed the one
causing the castaway to come undone...
without some ground to stand upon
or, kind support from anyone --
when trials came she stood alone
she couldn't even pick up the phone
the castaway cry's at night
tears of sadness
tears of fright
into the darkness she must go
because she's tired, and all alone.

No matter how hard I try to deny it,
people are beautiful.
I used to focus only on our misgivings,
our malice.
No longer;
for I have seen the balance.
We as human beings,
are capable of all extremes.
One or another of us will reach them.
But we will always equilibrate.
Fear not my dear friends,
you will find your way out of despair.
Do justice onto whom you replace.
You will find hope again; spread it on/.