I found a message in a bottle,
cracked parchment on the shore,
a brittle note crumbling to dust.
It was written in foreign words
but I recognized the sentiment
and I thought about you, love.

I thought about the oceans between us,
the continents and worlds
the time, the space, the ether,
the chains of luck and fate.

And I wonder if you're a specter,
a phantom made inside my mind,
an elusive effigy of desire
summoned on a lonely winter's eve.

I see the echo of your movement, love,
so I wrote this down to say
I just received your message
and I hope you haven't flown away.

Exalted child of Gilgamesh,
what has devoured you today?
Were you so thrown off your center
that you gnash your teeth and pray?
Be careful who you call out to,
be cautious of what becomes,
for the gods are jealous parents
and the titans eat their sons.
But, it's good to seek assistance
when the transition begins
from an isolated wilderness
to the company of friends.

I can hear the muses calling
'Though my hands are tied with work
And ghandarvas sing through cracks
Beyond the off-white office walls.
I know I should be free with them.
But instead:
Sign here,
Date there,
Keep the tally,
O reckoner of warehouse sheets!
The condition of modern slavery
Of entire paydays spent at once
While knowing that a human life
Is more precious than the profit line.

Ghosts of past performances
Flicker through the screen
As thirty second tidbits
Of synthesized self-esteem
On display in the electric cascade
Of an endlessly rolling wheel.
Take a look, take a peak
At souls sold for attention.
Give a second, give a minute,
Place your time upon this altar.
But what do you expect to reap
Sacrificing your life to this machine
Where nothing's holy, nothing's sacred,
And nothing's what it seems?

Turn away your weary feet there's trouble lying here
where everything you perceive is not what it appears.

Fantasy and make believe are rampart in these parts.
Discontent's an honored guest here once the party starts.

If you stay, you aught to know you can't keep what you find.
So take advice from Orpheus: you best not look behind.

Insecure anxiety will twist your head around
as you clutch the pretty things and trinkets you have found.

You may want to talk some more but I just don't have the time
and all the folk you come across have too much on their mind.

Let the sun shine
on the fields of this life
where everything's fine
and we're taking our time.

When the sun has gone
to an unknown beyond
should we stifle a yawn
and pray for the dawn?

If you get caught
where the dealing is hot
you get what you got
and that's the price of a thought.

It often gets cold
so I've been told
when you're alone
with no body to hold.

It's up to you
so what will you do?
'Though you can't always choose
when the skies are blue.

What could you say
to the wind and the rain?
Don't be afraid,
it will all blow away.

To fall as though an autumn leaf
released to let the burden pass
and ride along the sky’s relief,
a hissing breeze through amber grass;

to fall as though a wounded moth
when the gravity of earth may beckon,
with wings dispersed like fraying cloth
fluttering in circles down from heaven;

to fall as though in love and tender,
a softened heart without defense
laying prostrate in surrender
to honest affection without pretense;

then to land as though ashore,
a wave now broken and flowing
into a waiting embrace, adored,
a worthy ending to this roving,

and finally find my head laying on a chest,
where there’s support, there is love, there is rest.

An aura of perfume outlasts the embrace
billowing around my head, bittersweet
with hints of being vaguely incomplete,
as the softened curve of a smiling face
follows the lingering glow of affection;
although, these feelings come unbidden
proclaiming myths about paradise hidden
within love and life’s fragile intersection.

Do you know what happened to me?
I was alone on a terrible sea.
Storms on the ocean, storms in my head,
feeling like I'm better off dead.

Now I am floating on air
just to have heard that you care.

It came to pass I was left behind,
a nameless nothing, a victim of time.
Confused and hopeless, unable to feel
with no way of knowing what's real.

Now I am floating on air
just to have heard that you care.

I was learning how to survive,
chasing sensation to feel alive.
I did what I could, do you understand?
In the end, I'm only a man.

Now I am floating on air
just to have heard that you care.

I realize that it's been a while
since a love has made me smile
but when you're around it's all I do.
I've got to be careful when a dream comes true.

Now I am floating on air
just to have heard that you care.

I spun around and couldn't see
what I had in front of me.
When I looked up, there she was
scolding me and it was all because

I spun around and hit the ground.

Now I go around on my hands and knees
begging, pleading: "Baby, please!
Won't you help me off the floor?
I won't do what I've done before!"

I spun around and hit the ground.

I don't know what was on my mind,
it was another me in another time.
All I know is what I can say
I'm surprised I'm alive today.

I spun around and hit the ground.

Come, take me home, or at least somewhere that isn't here.
Sing songs of hope, of melancholic beauty ringing clear,
those that sound out a tone to attempt acoustic therapy
to reach a halted heart hanging heavy off the mezzanine
like a man in a field waiting for the wind to whisk him up,
spiral to heaven, promise endless nectar from a golden cup,
waiting for the sky to erupt into dizzy dreams of summer love,
spun out on perfection of the angel that he's dreaming of;
like a boat out at sea waiting for the shining surf surging on,
rising up to greet the cherubim who flirts with dawn
unafraid of endless rivers of idle talk and passersby
for everything's enchanted by the company of azure eyes.
Come, take me home, or at least somewhere I've never been.
Whisper tales of honesty, of shattered hearts and broken skin.

I don't know why the cold wind blows.
I can't see what the future will be.
So come what will or come what may
it's not over 'til you're done with today.

I'm just another man with too much on my mind
thinking about things better left behind.
I've made my mistakes just like all the rest
but I try to keep going and pray for the best.

Thinking a lot about this woman I love.
Thinking about the girl gets me all torn up.
Maybe what I feel is only a myth,
but the one I love isn't the one I'm with.

I don't know why the cold wind blows.
I can't see what the future will be.
So come what will or come what may
it's not over 'til you're done with today.

Honey, you're coming on too strong.
The way that you're hanging on my sleeve
like a cuff-link that don't belong
is making me feel that I should leave.

Honey, you're making moves too soon.
Why are your words so sweet
when we only met this afternoon
and you're pursuing relentlessly?

Honey, you're standing way too close
like a shadow rising off the floor
and the smell of perfume in my nose
is making me ill like none before.

Changing quite a lot since living alone,
resting out of service of a cellular phone.
Oh, my momma, how is it true:
staring through a screen at the human zoo

Sitting by the window when the breeze passed by
making crazy castles disappear from the sky
Oh, my momma, what does it mean:
watching things dissolve like a passing dream?

Sometimes I'm around more dead than alive,
and it is taking all I got just to survive.
Oh, my momma, can you explain
why we're stuck suffering the same?

It's not that I'm hiding what I'm frightened to find.
Listening to the preacher puts a lot on your mind.
Oh, my momma, can you decry
being a lantern that's scared of the light?

Friends may appear, but quickly they're gone.
Inspiration's growing like a golden dawn.
Oh, my momma, help me to see:
what keeps momentum through this mystery?

The future is so vast for someone without a home.
Every travel sees the past scattered on the road.
Happiness is never found within the mind that seeks.
To treasures you'd be bound if you didn't have to speak.

The future is so long for someone who's lost the way.
Heavy steps drenched in fog through the places you can't stay
Moving onward is a skill not many care to know
when there is time to **** watching all these flowers grow.

The future is far off for someone who'd rather die.
Each motion an endeavor, barely scraping by.
What trials wait in store for the movement of a soul
when acts are born from restlessness always without goal.

I've been through the desert to get to the sea
just to feel every wave crash over me.
But seeing you darling, I do believe,
nothing has struck me more pleasantly.
I think I love you, what more could I say?
But love's just a thought that I've given a name
and since I can't see inside of your brain,
how could I know if you're feeling the same?

I've spent far too long wasting my time,
cursing my fate and wishing to die,
wandering circles and wondering why,
what is the purpose in being alive?
Where is the joy when you're on your own,
wishing for someone but you're all alone
with frigid emotion and a heart turned to stone?
It's the middle of summer, I'm chilled to the bone.

I don't know all, but this much is true.
I'm feeling better when I am with you.
But oh, darling! What should I do?
I lost my perspective, I don't have a clue.
If you're listening, I don't mean to offend.
More than a lover, I'm needing a friend.
So if you think that you'd like to begin
I hope that you're sticking around to the end.

Oh, I wait and I wait and I wait for the day
when you come through the door singing my name.
Waiting for the day...

I wonder what could have rent you so asunder,
screaming like you’d seen the miracles of God,
while I watched with sudden fragile wonder
as your towers toppled right onto my lawn
but Love I’m just a vagrant’s shadow,
forgotten underneath the heel of passing time,
wandering from frozen field to flaming meadow
as a dozen birds wheel their thoughts across the sky.

I wonder what you think you’re wielding.
Is it some kind of strength deep in your soul?
Or have the clouds become a ceiling
that leaves you searching for a hole?
Love, I think you’ve lost your balance
but I hope that it leads to your rebirth
‘cause you created seven kinds of silence
when you left to burrow back into the earth.

The birds are singing arias
while monarchs ride the breeze
and I sit beneath the wisteria
doing exactly as I please.
The jasmine's finally blooming.
White petals cascade as gentle rain.
With an innocent view that's unassuming
there's magic within the mundane
that lets you hold and know a softer mind
without the pressures of success
where each moment's a jewel to find
beyond unhappiness and stress.
 Two people were walking in the harbor.
Not hand in hand but joined by words.
Their easy speech of friend or partner
like the unfettered song of birds.

In a redwood forest some place along the way
where the morning light in quiet puddles lay
and the branches hung with garlands of dew
I let my thoughts kindly wander towards you.
Perhaps I fell asleep, though that's hard for me to think
because the passing time was measured with a blink.
I've seen some stranger things, but I acted first in fear
when resting on my lap was a white and golden deer.
Her fur was spun from the same fabric as the sky
which I was slowly petting as she opened up her eye.
I don't know what I thought it was that I would find
swimming in that unobstructed ocean of the mind,
but there I found a ship with sails of compassionate well-being
to the further shore, towards an existence worth believing
where everything arises in a dynamic play of harmony
always in accord with the unelaborated nature of reality.

Waiting for the rays of light
to pierce the window pane.
When it goes alright
how could I complain?

Still I wait.

Watching all the raindrops fall
in puddles on the lawn.
Thinking that if I could crawl
I'd be moving on.

Still I wait.

Listening for the sound of shoes
to scuffle through the door.
If I was who you choose,
I couldn't ask for more.

Still I wait.

Feeling like a frozen man
carved out of stone,
one who truly understands
what it is to be alone.

Still I wait.

Darling, what did you do
that made me fall in love with you?
Oh Love, what did I see
that swung me to eternity?

Was it the day you entered the room
with the fire of heaven alight in your eye
and the flowers of wonder fully in bloom
as you followed the map in the sky?

Was it the moment our cheeks finally touched,
when I entered your arms for no more than a hug?
I got swept away by the powerful rush
crashing a growing like waves of a drug.

Was it the day that we sat down to eat
and you told me things which you rarely say?
Your cadence and phrasing and weight of your speech
were spells that were holding me in your sway.

The world stood still and everything disappeared
except for your posture and the tone of your voice.
To get lost in your story, my mind volunteered,
I never even had a choice.

Darling, what did you do
that made me fall in love with you?
Oh Love, what did I see
that swung me to eternity?

Smile like it doesn't matter
that the world is freezing over,
like the snowflakes love to scatter
onto speckled fields of clover.
Twist the corner of your lips
with a self-sure sparkle of a grin
as your skirt sways 'round your hips
waiting for the music to begin.

Smile like you found the ocean
swimming in a drop of dew,
like your veins are full of motion
and the world is watching you
as you wander through the echium
with thoughts billowing your mind
while your eyes compose the requiem
for the love you've left behind.

It's all I can do to try to stand up straight
and forgive all the foes I've made along the way
'cause when I think I'm finally in the right
it turns out I am a shadow standing in the light.
I don't even believe what I have seen,
the fragments and tattered threads of a destiny
woven with life and death on a country road,
coming to terms with mortal flesh and bone.
I am trying to be a different kind of man.
Who can look in your eyes and say: "I understand.
I know what it is that you're going through,
and I'll do what I can to be here for you."
But now I hardly go out my front door.
Mostly I'm at home, sitting on the floor,
humming empty tunes and writing rhymes,
tapping out the seconds as they pass on by.
But I'm starting to think that there's something more,
that there's something bigger still in store
and if I were to put my neck on the line
I would be the one who ends up fine.
I know a thought in my mind is the tool
causing the transformation of a fool
who finally sees that it's his decision
if he'd like to join the world as a magician.

If I flew around with laughter
would my mirth infect the living dead?
Would their groans resound an answer
to the ceaseless gossip in my head
that never seeks the things that matter
but wanders in the gardens of the stead
where discordant rounds of chatter
mimic every paragraph I've read.

If I stumbled through this sorrow
would the sky paint poems out of cloud?
Would the heavy shroud of false tomorrow
find a moment's solace in the sound
that was summoned from a hollow
outside the paved confines of a town
where shady specters tend to wallow
in poisons growing from the ground?

If I was frozen stiff with terror
would the sun spin a coat of warmth?
Would the threads singe or scald the wearer
if he's not filled with righteous worth
that was meant for someone fairer
who roots their comfort in the earth
where not a step is made in error
riding blazing comets through the north.

If I was sick with worry
would there be the comforts of some love?
Would wind push these sails to hurry
and bring some air back to the lung
that was emptied in a spoken slurry
heralding the hurricanes above
where cause and effect go running, blurry
and no one knows what will become.

If my temper cracked in anger
would starlight soften every blow?
Would the lightning clap with thunder
as it rouses the sleeping secrets of our own
that fill these kingdoms up with wonder
and kindly show us how to grow
where we're feeding all our hunger
with the seeds of hope we've sewn.

I'd love to see you swimming
in a sea of ceaseless bliss
where adventure waits beginning
in the fading echo of a kiss,
where life and death start to stall
long enough for us to pass
and understand that through it all
this interconnectedness will last.
If you look up from your basking
and see my shadow standing true
don't be too afraid of asking
"Boy, what's going on with you?"
I'll meet you straight with honesty
and say sometimes I'm uncertain
in this movement to the apogee
but my work is no big burden
for when I finish with the climb
I'll see your face in the eclipse
as the questions of a lifetime
flow answered from your lips.
I'd love to see you lying
in a field of scattered flowers,
not concerned with frantic trying
as we whittle through the hours.

With a wave of my pen I morph cobras into locusts as the myriad creatures shift out of focus. I surf a million empty channels on the wings of a prayer before I get fed up and vaporize into molecules of air. Then I suffer through the turbulence of empty-headed, vacant eyes and twist among the falling leaves to the palace of the sky. But who am I? I'm the archer tripping ******* the flaming arrows of Apollo. I'm the soldier who finds no joy in the enemies I've slaughtered. I'm the passion for the precipice and the thrill of falling of this. I'm half of a tenth of a femtosecond from leaping off these rafters with no real concern for what may happen to me after. I'm waking up at 2 a.m. from fevered dreams of mushroom stems as the room shifts black and blue and everything's illumined with the wisdom of the moon. I would rather be a de-fanged monster rolling in a ditch, fantasizing about facets on the gem of Might-Have-Been, starving for nutrition and the comforts of a friend, dying from this fatal case of gut rot than parade around with people pretending to be something that I'm not.

I went for a walk in the comforts of night,
determined to finally set all my problems right.
I got lost in a daze when I took a wrong turn.
I'm finding my way by the bridges I've burned,
and now I'm low.

I reached up for something that was just out of grasp
and I slipped when I touched it, and fell on my ***.
I was laying and praying, sprawled out on the floor
wondering what on Earth I was suffering for,
and now I'm low.

I went to the mountains to breathe the fresh air
to rejuvenate my senses with an infusion of care.
Then the avalanche came rushing, being set free.
I got caught in the glaciers crashing around me
and now I'm low.

I went to the valley and I looked in the stream
and I saw my reflection staring back at me,
saying "What is that you are running from
that has you so beaten, so rough and so glum
and now you're low.

I wish there was something I could do or say,
but everyone has to make their own way.
What were you doing, in God's holy name,
juggling matches in a world made of flame?
And now you're low.

Get out of your pity, get out of your mind.
The future's uncertain. It could end up fine.
Get back to your work and don't ever stop
'til you've filled your being back to the top
and you're not low."

These thoughts are a curse, they leave you feelin' worse.
It's when they descend that I see scenes of the end.
They've got me pinned to floor and I can't take any more.
I wish I could liquefy and then merge with the tide.

I don't know what I'm doin'.
There's nothin' I'm pursuin'.
I just kinda float without aim.
I'm feelin' kinda hazy.
I'm all bent up and crazy,
and I know that I am to blame.

I think about the sea, that hypnotic mystery.
Those times we've met in dreams, I wonder what it means.
I've seen  ecstasy blowin' through all the trees.
I've heard hidden hymns on the midnight winds.

If I'm not mistaken
it's when I awaken
that I'll see your face and I'll know
that there'll be no foolin',
no more push and pullin'
and we'll have a place to call home.

Maybe it's the scent of your hair lingerin' on the air,
or it's the sound of your words echoin' unheard,
but when I look in my mind, it's you that I find.
Your image I could never forget in a sun silhouette.

Love, I'm lost in typhoons scattered
to the fiercely rising wind,
where currents flow together
throwing my heart into a spin.
Now my mind is getting dizzy
from loops of ragged thought
as I follow what I see,
but what I do is not enough.
Go and strip me of my senses.
Scrub this essence to the core.
Deconstruct these walls and fences
with ruthless promises of more.

Love, I'm lost to tidal tempests
with emotions as the sea
crashing huge and reckless,
flooding every part of me.
Now my resolution's blurry.
I don't know what I've got.
My stomach's churning worry
to a frantic endless knot.
Go and ease this journey.
Build an island from my bone
reinforce it with some mercy,
where no one has to be alone.

Love, I'm lost to wildfires burning
up and down the golden coast,
destroying years of learning,
consuming what I love the most.
My lungs are getting heavy
from sighs and acrid smog,
from preciousness gifted already
to ungrateful, petty mobs.
Now I'm getting cold and numb
to the tragedies I see.
I'm stunned deaf and dumb,
and that ain't how it should be.
I'll go and get the shovel first.
Then dig a hole somewhere within.
Deep enough to be immersed
in the fountain 'neath my skin.

Love, I'm lost in my own universe,
and don't know if I'll see you again.

I've lost myself to noises
uttered mindless in my drunkenness,
but what was spoken I cannot even say.
For now's the morning after
and the undertaker's laughter
reminds me that I'm not worth
the sweat he lost to dig the grave.
I could lie and say I'm fine,
but the truth would stay the same,
'cause I'm incapable of tryin'
when everything I do is lost in vain.
There's always someone better,
someone bolder, someone smarter,
someone committed to their arrogance
that makes you think they know the way.
I know that I don't know
the inner workings of my soul,
and my body's slowly rusting
like a clock out in the cold.
I could cry out to the heavens
but my calls would be ignored,
for they're too busy flowing sweetly
through the kings and crooked dealings,
spreading like illusions on the floor.
I think I've withered in the sunlight,
dying for relief, for someone who knows
the hidden, hopeful things to say.
Things that lift you by your spirit
so your heart can know and feel it
and, love, I know that someone isn't me.

Fire burning on the horizon.
Rising smoke eclipsing the sun
riding on the wind without an aim.
If nothing changed, it wouldn't be the same.

How many words can you fit into your mind
telling you what you'll lose, what you'll leave behind?
You're tearing out your roots trying to find food
but it'll be much sweeter if you wait for the fruit.

How many days can you fit into your life
sitting in a sweaty room trying to stay on time?
Are you losing your days in the arms of the night?
When the stars are all shining are you bathing in the light?

How many times have you sat in reverie
rejoicing in the moment and letting it be?
Lately I've been thinking how I seem
to only be as real as the eddy of a stream.

Fire burning on the horizon.
Rising smoke eclipsing the sun
riding on the wind without an aim.
If nothing changed, it wouldn't be the same.

Aye, that crescent cuts the cloud
with golden slits of predilection
for the fog's encompassing shroud
and a parasol's protection.
The sun's spring-time blooming
auric light nearly blinds my eye
because that beauty's all consuming
with eulogies woven through the sky.
I contemplate the blazing fires
along the razor edge of the sword
slicing thoughts with solar spirals
eliminating the errant, straying word,
and cast back the black magic
of numbed-down confusion
while sharpening my moon sickle
on the whetstone of illusion.

I wonder if I'll see you again, or if you ever tried
to send a coded message everywhere that I am blind.
I hope you know I never had an eye for reading minds.
Maybe it was written in a language I can't read
between the hidden syllables of words I cannot speak.
Or maybe it's in the way I constantly long to be
somewhere in the redwoods umbrella'd by the canopy
in a drizzle of rain,
fog creeping into mist,
while owls read their poems
with nothing to do but to exist.

I tried to recede into my body,
down through the pulsing fluids
pushing minerals into bone.
I tried to find a moment's solace
in the patterned cavern of my heart,
but I met with opposition.
Now, I'm gliding 'round the obstacles,
sliding along the path of least resistance,
bound, by misconception, for the slavery of sensation.

I'm gunna walk on down the road.
Lace my shoes and I'll be gone.
I'll let the wind blow through my hair
and my steps play a gravel drum
as my thoughts merge with the air.
With ethereal feet I'll move on by,
past the cities and the towns.
I'll find a quiet place to sit and try
to fill the space that gets me down.
When the sun is setting slowly
turning the sky into an amber dome
I'll think of all my friends and family
urging me to come back home.

I'll turn and walk the other way
through the valleys of the night
and let the stars be my reflection
as I wander through the pines.
The evening's chorus is different
but the song remains the same
as I wind back through the cities,
through the alleys and the lanes.
When I meet that gravel path again
I'll know I've finally made it home.
I'll see my family and friends,
and know there's no need to be alone.

What did you whisper in the morning?
Was it the cursed introduction to a tale
written in the dialect of mourning,
where dreams and satisfaction fail?

What were you singing in the evening?
Was it a prelude to the ballad of the time
that threads unwound with confusion weaving
between chiseled cracks and faded rhyme?

What did the mountain echo to you?
Was it exactly what you wanted to hear,
did you find the timbre shifted blue,
watching all the texture disappear?

What did you dream of while sleeping?
Was it a prophetic message from the spirits,
a promise offered in protection and safe-keeping
or malevolent magic disguised as lyrics?

There go the winds,
tumbling out my sails,
leaving me alone and stranded
where intention often fails.

There go the winds,
blowing down the road,
leaving me alone to contemplate
the lessons I've ignored.

There go the winds,
disappearing like a friend,
stealing away that confidence
and that wish-fulfilling grin.

Hazy dawn on the horizon,
grayish-white with yellow.
Every day when I awaken,
I stare out my window.
Broken dreams fall from my eyelids,
rest in peace on my pillow.
Robins greet me with their singing,
I wave my hand and say hello.

I've been waiting with the silence,
sitting here just doing time.
On my back and facing heaven,
watching all the clouds go by.
I've been searching for my teacher,
someone who has seen the light,
who can show me my mistakes, now,
who can teach me wrong from right.

If a voice comes through the chatter,
saying words I can't define:
"Are you doing well my child?"
Yes, Pa, I am doing fine.
I am not afraid of dying.
I'm afraid of being alive.
Joyfully I do my work now.
Doing work I will survive.

But, could you pick me up at sunset,
take me on an evening ride?
Take a trip down to the fountain
in the labyrinth of my mind.
Send me sailing through the cosmos,
set me free from my confines.
Please be careful with your timing,
I'd like to see the sunrise.

Even continents will crumble
from the pressure of the world.
The highest clouds will tumble
into twisted patterns of a curl.
Maybe the wind is screaming “mercy”
to the idle feeling in my bones,
but I only know what I perceive
and my mind is deaf to foreign tones.
A heavy soul's another burden
sailing on the ocean of the mind,
hoisted onto shoulders again
causing frayed virtues to unwind.
My thoughts are turning icy.
Frozen sheets claw up my back.
Icicles growing through my psyche
antagonize the fire that I lack.
I could be wrong for trying
to see the blues through rosy glass,
but when flocks of thoughts go flying
I watch the purple pass.

There she was sitting at the foot of my bed,
floating out words like a gun to my head:

"Everything you do's based on pride.
All that you say is a lie.

Everything you think you can hide
is made clear in the light."

Oh, I sat and stared her right in the eye.
I went right for her heart and said: "I am alive

but what about you?

Say what you want about the day and the night,
keep those words coming, 'cause they sure sound nice.

Everything you say to me
is empty philosophy.

You and I will never agree,
and that's a prophecy.

I'm sick of all your **** and I think that it's time.
I've gotta let you know, babe, I'm feeling fine

but what about you?

I'm doing what I can to be more I was.
You're limping on a crutch made of "because."

When you finally hear what I say,
I'll have gone far away.

I clearly have no reason to stay,
so I'm leaving today.

I'm heading for the shore, to cast out to sea.
I'm leaving you behind and I'm gunna be free,

but what about you?"

A moon disc moves around in space,
beaming white with shades of time
as the pupil of a cosmic eye,
an aperture of the mind.
Its clouded iris billows,
evolving mountains in the sky
as textured fields of cirrostratus
caressing what's divine.
There's a copper sclera of diffraction,
as concentric rings of luminescence
enjoy, for tonight, partaking of this essence.

Do the pinewood teeth serrating mountains
not speak for want of a tongue?
I know they sigh sometimes with longing
when they're moved before a gale.
I hear your storm has started calling,
as the wind whispers me your tale.
The rain's a heavy harmony,
strumming straight on panes of glass,
and those rivulets of running water
walk patience to the brink
as the eddies of a circling mind
whirl cogs which make me think:

*I see your face in scattered strangers,
your form behind the rippling of skirts.
I hope your restlessness will soothe itself
and you feel at home, here on this earth.

"Would you like to share my umbrella?"
A voice said behind me,
quiet and reserved,
testing uncertainty with a modest proposal.
It was raining, after all.
Maybe I looked a little forlorn
walking alone along the path.
My pants were soaked and
I was contemplating the pattern
that liquid found through my pants.
Top of the thigh,
middle of the shin,
top of the foot.
I stopped and looked at the voice.
Her head was wrapped with a scarf,
dark brown pools reflected
through the opening of cloth.
"Sure." I said, and stepped inside.
She fussed with the umbrella, said
"This umbrella leaks,
I don't think it was made for the rain.
It must be one of those sun umbrellas.
My head keeps getting wet."
She unwrapped her scarf,
her straight dark hair fell out.
She patted her head.
She said her name.
Maybe I should feel ashamed
that I don't recall her name.
Me: "Where are you off to?"
Her: "Jack Baskin. You?"
Me: "Core West."
Her: "Where's that? By Kerr?"
Me: "The parking structure."
Her: "Oh, I know where that is.
           Do you know what time it is?"
Me: "I dunno, 11:45?" I checked the time.
        "Oh, wow, 11:58."
Her: "I don't have class until 12:30."
Me: "What class?"
Her: "Spanish 4."
And we talked in similar patterns
for the rest of the walk.
She liked the rain, and so did I.
She wished she stayed home.
So did I.
I showed her a path in the forest,
past the makeshift hut
that habitual smokers crafted
to hide with their habits.
I showed her the bench,
she was pleased with surprise.
Her: "How old are you?"
Me: "Oh, twenty..." I hesitated,
doing mental math "...four. You?"
Her: "Twenty-one."
Me: "Ah, I see you're surviving your twenty-first."
Her, laughing: "I lost my ID when I turned 21.
       I didn't do much drinking on my birthday.
       I don't like the clubs, or bars."
I didn't like them either.
Me: "What're you doing when you graduate?"
Her: "I want to join the Peace Corps.
          I want to travel around the world,
         and help people. It's why I study biology."
Me: "Yeah, travel is great. You should go do that."
Her: "Well, I told my parents. They don't want me to.
          I was born in the Philippines.
          My parents immigrated here.
          They want me to be happy and stationary here.
          Not traveling the world, you know?"
I knew.
She reached into her bag, pulled out a banana.
Her: "Would you like some of this banana?"
Me: "Sure."
We talked a bit more, about the dreads
of dealing with box-checking pre-meds,
of the work-load for a graduate student,
of what it's like up in Arcata.
Twenty minutes disappeared
quicker than is fair.
We left towards the engineering hall.
We parted at the parking structure.
Her: "Farewell, it was nice talking to you, Dylan."
Me: "Aye, it was a pleasure. Farewell."
I felt bad I didn't remember her name,
but I'll remember the unsolicited kindness,
and try to pass it along all the same.

In the shade of a willow,
down by a stream,
I wander down the hallway
of my fantasy.

I'm drifting like a cloud,
a shadow in the sky,
trying to find the courage
to go ahead and try.

I'm looking 'round at beauty
that's battered to the ground,
trampled by the people
blindly wandering around.

It's got me feeling hopeless.
I'm really feeling down.
Is there no one here who loves me
in this God-forsaken town?

I'm ignored by the strangers,
polishing their diadem.
What they all believe
is a wish fulfilling gem.

Life has got me thinking
that it's hard to find a friend.
I think of all those little games
that I don't comprehend.

I'll recognize your face
when I see you in the crowd.
I'll know you when you say
my name out loud.

Where are you, my lover?
Have you gone and lost your way?
Have your forgotten
everything you'd like to say?

I'll wait for you, my darling,
honest, brave, and kind.
I'll think about the mysteries
and magic we will find.

Walking by the river.
Footsteps in the sand.
Everything I say to you,
I know you'll understand.

And I'm alone in the ruins of the jungle.
The probing grasp of vining plants
twists questions out of dirt
and threads together disparate trees
whose trunks are full of centuries.
The ancient pyramids herald the sky
as darkened clouds return.
I do not fear the coming rain.

The rainfall used to be consoling,
like I'd hear the rhythm of your voice,
the cadence of your metered step,
inside the pit-pat play around my head.
Now there's only atonal dissonance
although I've seen the muses dance
to the static between my ears,
and I've seen the nymphs run wild
through forgotten foliage of time.

I don't know where else to look, love.
I think I've finally lost your track.

When day or night collide with frantic circumstance,
I'm left to pick the pieces up of sacrificed romance.
Could it be that I'm the unlucky one with nowhere left to stay?
Though I'm not pining for the moments that I passed along the way,
or the shades of broken people that are too afraid to heal.
They've left their hope behind, dressed in threads unreal.
Their heavy hallowed hearts are covered and still too far behind
and burdens burn their words when they lie and say they're fine.
Still, beauty spins from every fragment ruptured from their skin
as eyes and teeth twist together in a whirlwind of a grin.
I'm trying to be a full person, from my hair down to my feet
and stare down every obstacle while beaming from my seat.
For fortune has no favor, and I have no power to make it sway.
There's nothing you can do for me but close your eyes and pray.

Keep out of the garden, son.
That's not the place to play.
You have fields as far as
sunny hillsides on a summer's day
with waves of wild wind
whimlessly rolling in the hay.

Keep out of the garden, son.
That's not the place to sleep.
You have quiet afternoons
to rest with lazy sheep
and build a dream of  crowning castles
that your mind will let you keep.

Keep out of the garden, son.
That's not your place today.

I can feel your gaze upon me,
though we're space and time apart.
Maybe you thought in whispered words      
of tales unraveled in the dark.
Perhaps you looked through pictures,
still-life captures of a face
frozen in the moments
written down on halted days.
I can feel your gaze upon me,
and I wish it would never stop.
For when you look upon me,
it fills my vessel to the top
and the poetry comes flowing out
like I've been a poet all my life
while the world could sing and dance
a play penned in strokes of light.
Every moment is perfection,
and I'll take it all as such.
If your eyes are full of longing
when I feel your gaze upon me,
know that I miss you just as much.

Your image keeps a silent vigil
in the hallways of my mind,
reminding me of simple beauty
that wanders 'round in time
on tip-toed feet beyond the brush,
on weightless wings without a rush,
tucked away behind a thought
for when we're old enough to know
everything that we've been taught.

There's a sacred fire burning on the candle top.
I'm icy staring daggers trying to get it hot.
Read between the lines, let the mask drop.
'Cause in the end you only get what you got,

my friend.

When you came my way it stopped my heart.
When you went and left it tore me apart.
Wherever you go, I wish you the best
and know you look good in that summer dress,

my friend.

I'd like to share what I've seen with you.
I'm living in the land where dreams come true.
We could live a life of ease if you'd agree,
but why'd you have to go be so far from me,

my friend?

I'm feeling alone when we're not together.
So, I made myself a wing out of tar and feather.
I'll fly to the land of the ice and snow
and what I do there only I will know,

my friend.