Clearer than any settled pool
Brighter than any firework sky
Fresher than any daisy or flower
More real than any polished rock to remind

Falling fast and furious in mind
Like a stonework leaning slow built tower
With a buzzing hum as a furious fly
And sanguine light midst reflective pool

I remember it like it was yesterday
Because it was just 3674 days ago

Hurry hurry
Says the human
Grow up fast so that you can live

Slowly slowly*
Says the father
I'm excited to see you
But not that excited to take you

When you can hear the rain running through the trees
Scampering out from the great unknown
With a booming, thunderus, parental wave
The cosmos sounds
And the thunder calls it's children home

When the vacuum snaps
And Ahab is pulled beneath the calm waters of the world
The only surface tension that remains is dispelled by the ripple of intensity
And the underlying opportunity
That the tension of escape and the capture beneath provides
When the vacuum snaps almost instantly

Love turns to face Hate
And at the altar says
"I am yours and you are mine "
Hate doesn't respond
Knowing similar sames
And marital fate

Every time
I think that I’m really though with you

I laugh at the irony
Exclaim, but not in exuberance
My heart races, only to fade

And a headache follows
With my realized mistake

Every
Single
Time

Why do I look?

Bright and cheery as the sunlit gleam off the seasoned leaves
With peaks as high as the surrounding sound
And yet as approachable as the dawn which streams
Into the Meadow of the long lost wood
Where every childhood memory can be found
Pure is the light which envelopes these scenes
And pouring out is the heartfullness of each and every noted sound

I keep telling myself what I know to be true.
That I will not be here forever and ever.
And that one day I will be all which I endeavor to do.

You see, little old me never applied to me.
Because I am young and I am tall.

The world which I've yet to know stretches out before me.
And yet all I want to do is find the inner peace which sets me free.
The kind of peace which allows me to travel and return again without wanting to flee.

I have found such peace to a certain degree, but it's not enough.
My appetite is unsatisfied by this snack of life, and I doubt myself.
That I could possibly organize and properly depict the entirety of this thing called self.

Who am I kidding?

I'm just a man who keeps telling himself.
And that is the trick, to making the words in my stomach stick.
Like wild rice, are my thoughts to me.
But to find their way into the dish of life, will this not satisfy the appetite in me?

No. Because no hollow words from this hungry man will appease, the hunger for perfection in me.

I am weary
My eyes are wandering aimlessly
My forethought having long since lost its ability to see
Anything beyond the warm bed in front of me

O' my old friend
How I long and wish to return to you again
To pass the day slowly away
Until I am refreshed again and eager to live
Outside of this abnormality

Because I miss the normal visions I have
And this, whatever you want to call it existence
Is a much sleepier, far less enjoyable version of me

For I am weary
And yet I want to be
Rested without having to waste my time
Investing in the folds of sleep

This I know to be selfish of me
And yet no matter how hard I try
I cannot seem to close my eyes and rest my head
At either the foot nor head of my bed

Perhaps, if you'd see me, you could understand
That I am not angry, foolish, or sad
I'm just a slightly tired man

Cars roll by in subsequent order
Aimless yet guided
Aware of me yet not
And so, gone in an instant
Though similar in nature
Are thoughts
Are cars
Are these other lives
Are these

I'll trade you

The warm breath of this night in June
To be replaced by the warming breath of you
Just below your fine and fearsome eyes
In such a heartbeat I could be satisfied
Instantly

I'll trade you

I cannot help
But feel the feeling
That our trains have passed
In the dead of night
One before the other
Ever so slight

Vitriol
Spit it out
And keep a more civil tongue in your head
A more round noun in your mouth

Cool blue turns calm dusk
To hopeful still and quiet
As warm well lit dawn
Arrives in full force of arms
To carry tired lovers torn

The discovery of true words
Is but one of the many mysteries we seek
Both under stones and under moon
And in the volumes of our histories, we find
That no two words were ever successfully left alone
No sentence of the mind was ever so perfect as to be
The word of God without inspiration
No, mere mortal words I find to be
The loneliest of lonely things
But true words are of a great ideal
And ideals are often shrouded in such mysteries
And THIS … Is where you may laugh at me

(:

For someone who looks so fervently
A sonnet in the sky
You penned for me
Daughter nature
And trust me
Your mother has nothing on you
In this moment you have all of my eyes

I’d paint every leaf back
Pluck every vibrato piece of string
Catch a falling star enroute to earth
And cut Newfoundland fog
Just to hear the same old song once sang

I miss you,
More than anyting.
More than earth and sky and sea.
I miss you,
And the sight of you, which I've yet to see.
And I wish you were here,
So that I could ask you about you,
And inadvertently learn something new about me.

I am not
The height of all heights
No
Nor will I undersell my flavorfulness
The salt of the earth
And those reasons why
Are why I will not let it grow

Torn is not unmendable
Youth is not invincible
Just as age is not infoulable
Too old too fast
Too wise too late
But aware at least until the very last

I ache
Like a long howl
Out of the wolf of the mouth
Bellowing at a bright moon
Just out of reach
I ache

I cannot clear the palate of my mind with all of this noisy taste embodied.

Press the sound into your ears
Until the commotion is but a whisper
And then look at me so you might see
Exactly what this song mean

I could dry my skin and be like the bark
As one day I may sprout like a tree
Once again
But never in the moments to pass
Can I survive and be content
With thoughts that aren’t mine
Even if conjured up for a good cause

Because I write for the mind
As I am of the mind
And though I love the natural pass
The whim of the willow and waves which crash
Know this about me
I am as selfish as any human can be
So please appreciate it when it’s for you

Because most of the time my prose are for me

Perhaps you are not as you seem
Or perhaps the problem
As it always has been
Resides with me

For I am my not that
As I am not awake
But that too often now I have gone to dreams
And dreams don't die for me

Instead I breathe
And in sleeping
Wake

You walked in
And I saw
For a moment struck by falling awe
The same starlight in your eyes
As had been within my dreams as of late
And like that
The morning of not knowing was over
And you were there in the afternoon

I didn't expect such starlight then

Your fingers as they brush the bark
Turn suddenly and bark back at me
All they wanted to be was here at home
Was to be alone  
And to know the self between the trees

A man, searching
Finds no door or exit sign
In any amount of word comprised

Instead
He is only found in less of himself
And in more of his God, found alive

Sometimes my stomach empties
And it feels like I
Could consume the sky
With a single breath of air

But when I see my peers
And their success
How quickly I forget
Every win and concurred fear

The hunger is an eternal thing
With an observation to see
But the memory of what ere I've won
Ought to be enough for me

To deny the curving turn of the earth
Is to deny your own subconscious depth
Your reasoning, wave and subtle worth

How can you mend a bridge that's never been crossed,
In the daylight under the sun?

How can you climb beneath the turquoise sea,
And swim to the base of a mountain undone?

How can you find a way to the clearing's edge,
Where the waterless streams beneath willows weep?

And how much of you and I can be found,
Together, if to our opposite sides we keep?

Leaves learn first to fly
Once the test of death behind
Is last in their sight

Shadow, a scar across his face
Scratched unknowingly upon his own

Not to worship the self
Or the look therein

But to escape the external realities known
The distant typing of the alone

The amount of work this is going to take
Both inside and out, and out again
To build this way
Is significant

And the sad thing is
I'm not even comfortable enough to say:

"When you're working here
Would you lay these bricks a certain way?
That way I will feel like myself
When they're underfoot
In the days to come"

I struggle just to say such things
For fear of the constructed persons way

Still cups
Quiet unspokens
The hierarchy of all those who swim

What does it mean?

That you can take my silent ignorance as a token
That you are capable
And I am unwilling

My ears are open
My eyes are to the sky
God I will try
But help me let this go
If I must

Tennis is like poetry

Back ... and ... forth
And back ... and ... forth
Back ... and ... forth
And back ... and ... forth
Back ... and ... forth
And back ... and ... forth

Until one line breaks

Smile - Vaguely
Claiming busyness
Hide

No one gives me the time of day
That's alright - I like the night

You cannot see me
Hear aloud
Though here I am regardless

Consisting of the why in wind
Though I may howl
And crash upon the sudden leaves

I am still
The whispering in the hear and now

Powerful fingers
You will know them when you see them
Holding stars, holding planets
In between their webbedd wisdom

Hear them snap inside a thunderclap
And grasp the cup turned skywards
Hold the palm to match the desert
Each crevasse a meadow river

From the creator to the created
A hand to offer, hand to hold
So much for power and for wisdom
For every story ever told

Has been by his hands

To hold her for hours
And hours on end

The desire of he
Who contends with discomfort
And fights for her future
Be it not his own

These are the paths which only he knows
Lonely though they may ever be
He walks
Steadily into the good night

A light
Alone

Thank God
My sin is my own

Pain, no conscious name
Be known, but never the less
In present heaven

As if anything you say or do could impact me
Dear innocent girl
You keep your puddles
And I’ll be happy
Especially if you ever decide to swim with me in the sea

Hello poems
I'm your penman
And your ship which has sailed over a thousand times

Hello times
Where are you going?
Lord knows in nowhere you will find

Hello no one
Hello some
Hello life and underwhelmingness of love

Hello certainty
Hello un
And hello to you my most newly begun