Dark as wood grain ocean stain
With ripples I have not
In mind
My fingers
Swim happily crash within waves
Until I am forgot

Perfectly, flawlessly, lost
Still lost

Quietly, solemnly, sleeping
Still wake

Notably, publicly, making
Still waste

We are dying, arriving, and truly
Too late

Pour my heart a Trenta drink
With lemon twist
And jazzenough to fill
My eyes with wonderment
At your waist
A taste
This drink of you

Feeling the winding springs beneath
Gravitational pull indefinite
Might leave now
Definitely

Hold my hopes
Regardless of how high or low
Like the towers in the distance hold the canvas sky above

Standing closer now than the reality of how  
Yearning souls alone call out to be found
With each other in their one true home

Don't leave me standing here alone
Don't leave me now

The world spins ahead
Spins underneath
As my own head turns
Along with the earth
And tears itself apart in search
Of what quiet calm serenity can be
(And whatever personal tranquility)
Previously
Had been

Yet madly I go on
Beside my own self and being
In hope's of returning to me
Fully and free
My hope

I send not love, nor hate
But acceptance
Because I cannot help but live with you
And escape your resting presence
With what?
The occasional rest
And sleeping in
As is the provision of heaven itself in self
I sleep, and thus
Break from our mortal relationship

I forgot how fumes worked
   Being enraptured to be
      Like the endless voice
         Above the clouded though
      How intoxicating you were
   In a dream that was solely mine
To me

Scribble a thousand, a million, down
Invent and scratch at the surface of create
Paw at the great cats still wandering around
And wait for them to speak in jazz
But leave, and leave a man alone with them
And but a moment later they'll be in his bed
Lying all around

The fat cat words cannot wait to be heard
They are always sounding and acting OUT

And then one day
   When the sky’d had enough of it winded and vitriolic shame
With eyes wide as well mouths
   Looking down from the most inhuman skies abound
On that one day
   When the world wouldn’t stop for even a second anymore

It rained

Near not
Nor want of desires am
Be told as much by their fathers
Less
For fear of a girl expecting more suns
For expecting stars without such burning
Infinitely falling duress

We are not them
Human which tears apart parting flesh
Nor timeless clocks or flea ridden pests
When wondering in east
Be confounded by the floundering boundless this
That we are but men
Infused with Gods lost compasses

Near not, you’ll find
That behind the guise
We smile and acquiesce

With an open hand I greet your ghost
Set flowers by the curb aside
And reach as I never reached in life
Without regret or doubting eyes
I see you still
Afraid to move away
From the dimming hallway light inside
You are my favorite ghost by far
Just as you were
Once alive

Ideas
Really good ideas
Are like dreams asleep

Take melatonin
Eat a pickle
Try as you may
To recreate
And force them into wakeful being

But you cannot
Not matter what you do or do not eat
As they will only visit
When your conscious mind is at ease

Unaware of hunger or self indulged feast

Or you could try tacos
Tacos always give me dreams

Words can never hold you
Like immortal arms can try
Or comforting words can pretend to keep
Everlasting as the books which fall short of life

Much emphasis on this mortal can
This inevitable, always, will try

Humans, right?

Not to be found
But reaffirmed in mind
As no verse will ever lift you up
Or bear your cross quite like
Christ

The trick is not .... to drown
In the saturation of memory ...
        Highly colored
        Feelings felt
        Or letters burned in effigy
The key is .... the feeling of the fiery warmth
And not the dousing of opportunity ...
To make memories anew

And then suddenly
Like the dawn, she was there
And my face alight with a joy so bright
That she was even more radiant
In the second sun of my reflected
Impervious to shadows and the nets they weave
I am glad that I waited through the night
To be greeted by my dawning eyes such as these
I am glad

Moonlit lips I often kiss
Too run around with sunlight
.........
Stare longingly at rainfall out
At leaves Fall down
..................
The ocean and her daughter longing
Calling me to avail myself to their dreams of being
...........................
When really, too often there I am found out
Too often called by name
....................................
Because I love the same familiar sounds
Of natures romp abound
...........................
Hence why the beat of a familiar breeze
In my head of hearts, always pounds
..................
Quiet and
Consistently there
.........

Humans, we are who
Being of sound voice and full
Speak often not of
And more so now than ever
Of that which is nothing new

The moonlight serene
Looks both different and differently at me
Through these Hemlock wings alive
And the summer breeze perspective
Flying above us with its free embrace
Whispers a painted picture of forest green
Into your ears the essence of my dream
Of which you are of part and parcel
A major reoccurring being
You, and this new moonlit scene

It's Virginia sun
And Maryland rain
Southern thunder in the clever skies
The kind which makes the treetops shake
From Eagle Pass to outside Quebec
Where is the earth if not in perfect place

By mother nature's breath
I swear it's true

You were meant to be today
And these also with you

When you are in Texas
The storm feels closer
The grass feels more vibrant
Not greener, but strong
And the cool wind blows
In a proud feminine way
Unpredictably beautiful

When you are alone and in Texas
You are peacefulness embodied
Tranquility on the edge of both war and throng

A wonderful feeling of being and belong

A wish is just the absence of a realization.

Just as the night is just the absence of the sun, which ignites our minds to breathe.

Just as I wish that I'd realized this sooner.

Yes, even I am susceptible to life itself.

Espdcially me.

Deep beauty
Steady silence
And ripples stirring into waves
Unchurning days besought with shadows
And a shying sky which looks
And gazes longingly beneath
At each of these
One blue, one clouding grey
Begotten eyes

Only to see what I can see
At the end of whipping, curling, line

One more day
One more breath
One more second yet to pass by me
In exhaling exuberance of life and living fast
I am tired of seeing
And by roadsides existing
Not stopping to smell thoroughly
Such quiet flowers by the wayside
Passing myself by
This is me