Some things are simply understood
Without the need for spoken word
Others better said out loud
So they may be heard

Some thoughts are better unexposed
So not to harm the atmosphere
Others need to fly and soar
To land on lover's waiting ear

Hold the tongue, bite the lip
Let not insults from it trip
But compliments that smooth the way
Let them see the light of day

songs of wild skies
where the sea’s ghosts
gather wave and mist,
where the dark sea
drifts and the wind
scatters petals
curves the rushing
of a tide that longs
to be free, waits
waits forever to
dream.

When a person is loved
That doesn't define him
But I wish my love defines you
Or at least tell you this
You don't always have to change for the person you love.

Let my love for you remind you
That you're beautiful
You're strong
And you'll be loved
Because you're you.

Let this great love
Reflect who you really are
Bring out the best in you
Give what you deserve
**Let my love define you.

blues and stars
love and ink
under an opal moon
darkness unravels
unwinds leaves
that fall from
trees that wander
the rain’s ghosts
sighes and
clouds of grey.

some churches have bones,
and a graveyard for all the prayers
god didn't answer

Seated on the edge of the riverbank
Watching raindrops fall across the city light's reflection;
A living Monet of color and fluidity and the sutble refractions of life.
The bridge above me is humming with traffic,
The railyard to my left fills the cold night with the timeless bellowing of midnight trains,
Used syringes lay amongst the driftwood here.
A crudely painted ******* adorns the trail head,
Overgrown with brambles bushes and blackberry vines.
A solitary ****** cruises the shallow dregs of shore
On an endless quest to find her mate,
Painfully unawares of his fate,
Fallen victim to a poacher,
Some careless fool with a greedy and discontented heart.
The tents and tarps of Portland's homeless, the lost and forgotten, line these hillsides;
Their many dreams and hopes lie broken amidst the rubble of this everyday existence.
I sit here often, smoking and thinking, and watching the ever changing lights.
Every now and again I take a picture, gather a stone, or fall asleep to the sound of rain
And the smell of earth and leaves and rushing water.