I will not succeed
and knowing such
sets me free to be me,
let’s my sails open
to solar winds.

Wings are ready to rise,
because I am ready to fall
ready to be drowned
in it all.
I can fly for now.

When I was a child
they said I needed Jesus
promised salvation with a cross
violent death bleeding
and my submission
is what it costs.

But now that life
has changed me
and knowledge
seen me transformed
I cannot return
to that garden.
One more reason
I can’t go home.

We are not really broken
until we are broken
       and then we mend
and break again
      until our bones
become smashed
to smithereens
mapped into tiny lines
         and cracks
with some darkness
        in between
white matter, crushed
             into jigsaw pieces,
laden with blood, with spit, with silt
until the despair
that fear releases
interacts with self-blame
           and guilt
And how they weigh upon us,
these layers of pain
like heavy blankets
on our contours, in the dark
the maze of our pasts
thick upon us
as we strive to envision
                             a spark
perhaps just a tiny glowing,
at first, a barely felt
shadow of light
a glimmer, a whisper of
           knowing,
a drive urging us on
           to fight
and all of our minerals
rub off in sparkling crystals
as we brush up
against the walls
of that ever-blackened tunnel
as we stumble
and steady the fall
feeling a subterranean rumble
a shifting of perspective
as we battle questions,
spinning thick
into the whirlpool of our yearning
into molten metals, slick
We might think we can snap
                           with the ease
of a lonely brittle star
that tomorrow
could be a tribute,
              in lacerations
to the last trace
            of who we are
but it can happen, as we
sit upon, plan the edge
              of our last breath        
                       deep, subtle beats
                        of truth rise up
                to repel the scent
          of death
and, in pulses of light
                  it drifts
bends in willowy arcs
upon our soul it trips
******* light out
from the dark
and all the sharpened hooks
that kept us chained
         to the abyss
are released as
              we break free
into heaven's rolling kiss
feeling the flutters
of a new, kind breeze upon our skin
as Life's vast impulse
courses through us
     and simply wins
and the only demise
we're mourning
is the death of
          of a dormancy,
a resistance to again
receive and give
as we embrace
those little, precious instincts
that tell us to keep on
and choose
            to live

Little boy brown
dusted by broken buildings
smoking ground, and busted concrete.

Little one with a red shirt
I cannot say if it was
made that way
by the manufacturer
or this man made
disaster.

Little child laying down
on a rubble bed
by his little brother.
Instead of playing childish games
now two children lay
posed in death's way.

Little life left
in this mess
but plenty of
blame and sorrow
to share.

I can never return
my body will not let me
will not let go of you
and if I go back to
that house I might have to.

I know you are dead
but the casket was closed,
and my emotions do not know
what my mind says is true,
so if I go back
I will have to truly lose you.

You see the hours and the town
still holds the past down
every memory is seeded
and carefully grown
painfully shown.
It is well known
that if I go home
it will be the last time I can.

So I claim that it is not shame
but a cold hard fact
that demands I never go back.
I will never go back,
because part of me
still believes you will be there
and not just still deceased.

If I go back, then
the chances of that
are decreased
to zero,

Then all that we were
together and apart
our history of family
flesh of my heart
will be forever dead.

I see the trees
rotting diseased,
void of spring’s leaves,
Roots cleave
dry brown dirt.
Wooden daggers
pierce the earth.

Grounded,
they are my roots
hungry for all
life needs
drinking deep
of the natures
rainy liquor,
but we are each
still dying.

It is so hot, that I can’t sleep.
I just sit silently sweating.
Till my gross oily skin
Forces me to take
My third or fourth
Shower of the day.

I can’t sleep
But laying in the darkness
Through my partially open door
Someone is passed out
With someone they love
Sleeping on my living room floor

I can’t sleep
So I write what I do not want to keep
Locked up in this hot head
Not impatient or violent
Almost feverish
With summer’s sweltering abuse

I can’t sleep
Because I do not trust
These people I know
Sleeping just beyond
This wooden door
If I opened it more
I am sure it would not be bad
The air is on
But the troubled part
Of my reptile mind
Does not want to risk
Any vulnerability

I can’t sleep
And this is bothering me
My own burden
My own proclivity
To endanger my sanity
Because
Because
Because
**** I don’t know why
I just can’t sleep

Im not angry only disheartened. I offered you a universe of wonder and you chose a dull road of uninformed and camouflaged conformity.

It is a miracle of desire
That flesh fits
That evolutionarily
We came together
Lust and pleasure
Temporary companions
In this temporary life

The city sees deciduous trees
Sparsely populating
Their concrete streets

Barely brown remnants
Of formally great forests
That branched out beyond
Our small minded conception

Bisected by buzzing powerlines
Spindly fingers clench tightly to
Old empty robin’s nests
Until frost and rain
Dismantle those ghost homes

Once vibrant basking in
The sun’s brilliance
Now anorexic
Throwing up multi colored leaves
Bulimically
Before winter’s burn

You have not been to my dark spaces,
seen parental faces
distorted in uncontrolled rage
feeling the sting of such primal violence.
I hope you never have to go there.

You have not seen the blank expanse.
Eyes closed sitting in silence,
seeking peace in meditation
but finding grief in the memory
of all lost things, like time,
love, compassion, family, and friends.

You have not been in my story
or taken my journey,
but yours is no less valued.
I will await your voice in poetry
across whatever barrier
separates you from me.