our nature is not inkwells
our tongues are pens
our will's to live

No heights can test
This smokey breath
Breathe out another jog and let

This heartbeat ache
Which throbs in pace
And patters like the dove and yet

To feel your feet
Guide underneath
Like oceans smooth with opal flow

Its warming breath
And pounding chest
This besting high you runners love

Tall, once grown
A tree needs neither sap nor season
To pine

(for her)

There is a difference when
  A man writes to write
  When he is looking to be
  Or not

When he is drawn out slowly
  Or even enticed
  By similar thought

The difference wherein
  Be it seen or not
  Is available still in the smiling thee

In the unbiased quiet of wishing
  Of wells

And in the sky of an almost knowing singular hope
  Beneath wings of birds once free indeed
  Once driven from the land of having
  Or wandering into lost passages tall

Therewith burning fiery glowing alone
  You should know
  That he does speak his own tone

And if he gives you these
  Such seas and oceans of well known
  Then be pleased

For it is you who he then loves alone
  Most ardent and true
  In an earthy word song definitively long
  And in the thought of throng, it is you alight

For there is a difference when
  A man writes to write
  And when he doesn't, he is wrong

When my channeled radiowaves groove
and reach your ears like LEDs
(and in mind's eye explode)
with colorful remnants of unimposing
ultra all-knowing, unimportant dues
You will want (if anything)
to pick up the phone
and (to no one in particular) call
and take a taxi beneath the moon

Like the dark cold which seeps
Through the base edges of the windowsill
Quietly and without self control
Or even the willingness to be instilled

So you seep through me like winters thaw
My bones alive with heat

And here with just the brushing glance where I thought I was safe
You seep

Cold coffee settles me
And stirs the morning into dew
In a warm body

You don't see me when
I cry, or spill over, you
see me when it rains

you can leave (and away) any ordinary day
but you can’t always come back and walk
down this particular way
again

This tall tower
Skyscraping master of one
Has a name and internal beams of rust
And to see within at the embrace of time is to trust

Unfeeling, never
Full of feeling always and in being, have been
Don’t call another man by my name
Or think that I am, without sin
But the one thing which I know, and am
Is that and this, and the neither alone
That I’ll know when one-day heaven has come
And until then you’re my home

The only windows
which appeal to me
Are the two of gleaming intrepid green
        which I see in you

Love this timeless feeling free.
Within the ebb and flowing
conscious world of unknowing.

Here in memories showing.
All of the reflective be
Brought within this common wave

Which cannot help but steady
It’s deep sky clear as daylight
Crashing nighttime off staved off

AND

All is water here my friend
When that is let go within
This all-encompassing sea

Beauty has no name
Or surface questioning whim
Like yours engrained in

The night won’t look the same
        It hasn’t since
You up and walked the stars into another man’s cave
        Where your flames embrace
        A future warm without
        The same old sky of me
So cold

Not every verse has to be a journey
Not every person a means of influence for you
So take care of that smallness — of mind
midst package — I pity your perspectiveless, less, untrue

When I least expect
Your presence to be
Without longing or desire
Or conscious choice
Without all of these
Some mornings you'll appear
Out of fog and vale revealed
Almost sudden without warning or iniquities
You aree simply there
And I'm left wondering as to why
You chose once again to visit me
Not in the real but the realm of dreams

The further you get
from the vision of dream
.
The less you can see
clearly as a calm content being
..
Your own self currently therein
...
The further toward the inaction you grow
the more tree like you become
....
So BREAK FREE and be free
while you are still young
.....
Tomorrow is for old age and memory

Write my old name
Brand new in a book
For your serendipitous
Ultra ompintotus almost belief
Until our discovery it does keep
Within the dark deep abyss of this
Not knowing as it is, you will one day see
That boy oh boy, was Barnes & Nobles ******

My carbon becoming
near this oxygenated girl
Breathe
breathe
breathe
and breathe
Everything but me, IN
as my outward going is

my saying I'm alone by me
is like saying that the stars have no sky
because the night cannot breathe so deeply this far into the galaxy

Which is louder
   ?  

   The silence
   You create
   For yourself
   ?

   Or the silence
Left
   When someone else
   Doesn't want
   To create
   With you
   ?

A world of responsibilities
Around a round
And all I want to do it run
To the end of the lane unending and long

No excuse is youth
I've grown

Don’t cast your belief upon other people
  or think yourself too dreamy or not
no lasting deal is ever left on the table
  no potential memory is wrought with forgot

Cast stars like lines and looks like dice
  and roll and roll yourself ever on
say yes to the self which you’ve yet to be
  speak truth to the could of want and beyond

There are days on one knee when
I fall for myself
And others then where I
divorce into the dark deep
nonexistence of sleep

The future can have the kids

Give me too much
Until little it takes
And I'll be wasting away
In a field of either unthought or none
No pace to set or mind to bind
There is nothing of theirs
In this most unkind form of lost

Truth without arrogance
Flattery without flaunting mind
Seeing your turned back I keep coming back to
Just as those truer lost words you will probably never find

In such an unburdening lost
Round yourself within another binding tie
And be free of the circling expectative ring
As this just ine memory molded makes my clay heart sing

And so
I ask you this nothing now
Can we just skip the second awkward remembrance and
Can I just go ahead and buy you a cup of coffee or something
?

We aren’t living and dying
   (in this world)
      The living and dying are     of   this world

I'm not angry, I just sense
and in perpetual thought, be

I breathe, deeply in these tunnels
because your memory is more shallow than me