Child of mine please know

All things have a season

All things have a time

If stars can fall, then crash and burn

Humans fight and fail to learn

Then time has nought to teach

The blind will never learn to see

And the deaf will fail to hear

Even mighty rivers run dry

And seas can also die

Today

my heart stopped beating

But time has taught me this...

Love is where you find it

Follow joy wherever you can

Hope can spring eternal

Fellowship remains in man

The young receptionist
suddenly crossed her legs
behind the window
of the waiting room of my love,
smacked her gum
and said promise not to leave,
always come back if you do,
even if we give you bad news
for the rest of your life.

Started with words as most things do.
anger escalated to yelling and swearing.
She came at me, fire and hate in her eyes,
This petite little woman I called my wife.
Her fists pounding my face and chest.
Shocked more than hurt, I extended my
arm to hold her off.

No man could ever do what she just did,
Not without my strong physical rebuke.
Yet I turned not a hand to this woman I loved.
A day before I would have taken a bullet for her,
and now it appears she'ed **** me if she could.

How does Committed Love so quickly turn to this?
So it would seem, love is not even skin deep.
My father warned me of this fact, a truth
I refused to hear, and upon him I had turned
my back and chosen her.

To her disrespect and abuse,
I did what any decent man would do,
I walked out the door and never returned.

I dreamed of my father
crossing the fields
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sadness
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
and I waded the creek
beneath a ridge
where my mother is shearing
dead roses and the smell
of those flowers floating
to the foot of the mountains
reminds me of her hair
and my father's laughter
disappearing across the hill.

A blue guitar, twelve pieces of silver-
ware, some feldspar, an essay on The Art
of War, two pine bookshelves, fifty-four books
about the past, a stone axe that must have
belonged to the last of the Mohicans, fifty more
books about bones, stones and famous pomes,
a sliver of glass from a mirror that shattered
the last six years like they didn't matter
plus one to go, a shitload of old liquor bottles,
a fossil of an inner earbone from a killer whale,
a spear-point older than 12,000 years+plus,
a tooth from a shark as big as a ****** bus,
dust marks from missing pictures of us.