To chase the sun through the desert
one must follow the wild horses,
but the dust gets in your eyes.

It's hard to truly see that land;
the barren plains are the other -
they are not the absence of life.

I thought it easier to find-
her in the city amongst
the soulless testimony there.

One could see her in the darkness,
her love gentle like a lone doe
in the vagueness of the morning.

Her name boomed wise like thunder
reverberating sublimely
all around the rain scent lingered.

I wander through the irreplaceable night
waiting for the grey vagueness of dawn.

It isn't always so complicated;
the deepest things are simple at their root.

When the wolf wanders into the valley
does she hesitate at the fork?
Does she wonder about the untrod path,
or just stick to the banal evil of normal?
She prods at my kidneys with her nose,
hesitates, smells the remnants of Florida,
and trots onward, not looking back.

It's second nature to love you,
but first to see my wrongs.
It's easy to miss things
in the new darkness of night.

The missing takes hold gripping like a noose

The words choked out of existence

A blink of thought

Like trying to catch words of thunder flashing through rolling clouds

Waiting for the deluge of word soaked verse only to watch it Roll by overhead

without a drop off  to nourish some other poets pen.

Life churns the seas of revelations

but the waves won't let me catch a breath for a beat.

Dry pen, parched paper and a world to soak in inches from the shore

A shipwreck smothered by the sand

I count the stars instead

An estimate in a glance

As I Think of the endless possibilities

And how insignificant I am

That the words that i have captured

Remain the legacy of what there is

When of words there is nothing to gain

But the release of joy and pain

Into the universe

and if not written will not remain.



Then I am but a blink of ink that mearly left a smudge

Barely enough to stain.

I hid my true love in
graveyard dirt
under the white willow
catching the coy wind

they said my words had to
sound sweet as ****** breath
to lure him to my *******

I had to bring my  
lover thru the fire
as death was my cupid

We were uncertain
ghosts caught between
time and space
caged by blue moon
dreams and pretty
things that haunt
thru the night

Green goomba backpacks,
Extended busses,
The kids only ride one stop,
Folk music in my headphones,
Playing with the hopeful heat,
Of rainy day rides.
Where are we going?
On the one driving the bus knows,
And even they have their stop.
Societal soliloqal differences,
But here we are,
Cultural clashes melt away,
With,
"You can have my seat."
Falling into souls with just sideways glances,
Cases of, "what did you want to be when you grow up?"
****,
What did I want to be?
A longing nostalgia of places in memories that never existed,
Luckily,
The bus has no rearview mirrors.
Phoenix is grey,
So is Reno too,
Hawaii had it's days,
All have their riders,
And their drivers,
The stop is requested,
But I don't need to get off.