Since when did darkness
Become my only light

she speaks of hills
from times passed behind

of cloud capped tops
and snow capped peaks

can't we go back once
where wind stole my stole
and you chased down the wind

clouds dipped to see me blush
as you wrapped my heart warm

can we go back once

the yaks may still be grazing
time may still be standing

by chance.

Your friendship is like a kiss of death
It is better in the beginning
But slowly poisoning me with your affection.

And when I cling to you for strength
And when I need your breath in me
You silently draw away and leave me.

Better put a sting on my tongue
And punch me on the face than
Leaving me in silence and confusion.

sharing all seasons -
international home of
earthling family.

this is life lost -
deaths of brothers and sisters
cut me, raging tears

rage of tears at dawn
--how are you?
my beloved strangers...
earthlinghood revised,
blogospheric species-hope.

first day
adless surfing -
wet my pants.
the old concentration back,
i breathe relieving sighs.

infotainment age -
authentic journalism
revised and found

#riseupoctober -
"The Souls of Black Folk," asks Du Bois,
do you have a *soul?

my white-washed education
didn't give me one; love did.

Trent Lott's lot:
a segregationist, blogged
into mississippi's mud.

Coltrane's music
fire in my chest, supreme
love-train of Cornel West

Chimamanda sings
inclusion and awareness -
what do you sing?

untimely autumn
frost, grinding into duff
a bigot's words.






.

He stuck two sticks in the mud
Forked like a moccasins's tongue
To hold both poles while we smoked
Camels we stole from the coal
Truck man and drank homemade
Wine swapped for a knife and a dollar
To the drunk up the holler and a can
Of sweet corn ten years old still dusty
And rusted but the trout hit it hard
Anyway like slow flies on a slow
Golden Saturday a long time ago.

She counts her shells

her feet sand ribbed
her toes ricely white
her hair windy vagabond
her eyes low tide sea.

She gives me back my years.

Through tears
I count eternity.

I am a firefly
One who hates the night
When darkness demolished the sky
Loads of monster wants to take our light

I remembered my friend Tammy
At nighttime, she has the shiny glow of green
Her vision to be the greatest firefly who shimmy
Alas! Children put her in a jar and destroyed her dream

And then, I have a comrade's name Tommy
Who love to show his yellow glow?
Little he knows that was too dummy
Sticky tongue, big eye frog devoured him below

I am firefly, who has a red gleam
Who always pray to God to take our beam
In order for my kin to stop to scream
To peacefully spread our wings at night, ‘twas my very dream

I am a firefly
My name is Timmy

10-28-2015
Mysterious Aries

We gather our bones and piece them together
in hopes that sleep will cast over us quicker.
Across the sheets of making noises-
a dance of silently lying to the other.
Swallow down the awkward conversation
with coffee questioned how I took it.
A handful of brown packets in attempt
to make this morning taste less bitter.

You may as well dance
to the tune of a blue moon.

Or sing a lullaby to the sun,
eat a bellyfull of stars,
try to keep away from bars. :)

How do we write about love?

It's too hard to capture in words,
and in verse it's even worse.

But the hardest thing of all
isn't when we fall,
it's when we let it go.

How do you say that, you know?

I dread the sound of its passing
and the call of its merry chime
on the hour every day
the price that I pay
for life is a fear of time...

i wake up

a wings' flicking,
a gentleness
of waves
crashing far,
like the wind
beyond the window

i wake up

all stolen away,
every shade,
every string,
every crimp,
flattened
- fiat lux untold

i wake up

it looks the same
fear, too, is the same
what is this lacking?
what am i missing?
a moss echoes
in a violence of tides

i wake up

If you think of me in the spring,
think of dogwood petals
in my hair, greener grass
and new beginnings.

If the summer solstice
finds you walking alone
in the garden of the moon,
remember that I'm somewhere
walking alone, too.

If you sing of me,
sing in the fall
in blue flannel and jeans
like the saddest song of all.

And if I pretend to die,
and you pretend to weep,
I promise to do it in the winter
when there are no flowers
to send in your pretended grief.