cloud floating,
sea dreaming
of the blossoms of
the breeze,

love, the song
has got restless
like the wind,
it is time to
burn the
alleys and
the sun,

the sea sweeps out
songless and
murmuring to
a heavy sky,

roots that have
shrunk, surrendering
flotsam and jetsam
to the sands at
low tide,
cry for the
rain,


spring, no
longer distant,
waits for a
morn of warming
sun,

you, lover of
the spring,
wait for the
crocuses to
breathe
love.

I live in my head
I have my own room there
My own bed
Where I do my best thinking
Where I am most comfortable
It keeps me up most nights
Making to do lists and analyzing
conversations from days before
Daydreaming about everything
Some of the thoughts I have
are down right crazy
So crazy that it must not be me
there must be other people up there
and hell not just a room but a whole house
with several rooms and several conversations
I can envision it clearly
Sometimes I stay there for days
The lights are on
My shades are open
But no ones home
I do return to the real world and have
real conversations but seems like I
Always return to my head
Where I live
In my own room and my own bed