Sitting in the waiting room of a Children's Hospital
Orange plastic church
Of medicine
There's a beautiful woman with a head scarf and a baby
And you've disappeared behind a door
So many appointments
So many checkups
For me at least
I've only been in a hospital twice before -
When my sister was having her babies
I was only in the waiting room
And now she's getting divorced
Come out soon please

But I could do this again
I could do this as much as you needed
I'll be there fire every appointment
Every checkup
Even if some day -
It stops feeling like so many
Come out soon please

I hate that you're sick
Even when you're healthy
Surgery doesn't scare you -
But if it really does, it's okay
The baby is wearing a blue hat
She's sweet
Ours will be too
Please come out soon

Your dad and I are sitting on complete opposite sides of this couch
I don't know if either of us will ever be used to one another
I am still fond of him
I'll hug him at our wedding
And we'll give him grandchildren
I don't mind that he's grumpy
I just hope he likes me
But please come out soon

The country music plays at a low tinny volume
I never much cared for it
But thinking back now I enjoyed it then
From the back seat of a love's family car
Stopping at small town after town
Country meals and light on conversation
Our favorite was finding
everyday treasures of times long past.
How appropriate then as I scour my mind doing the same
thing

Dark-eyed poet
in the long night
come and burn
your time with me
let's set our whole lives
on fire tonight
and breathe each other's
smoking dreams..

Red black red black
There is nothing more

Traffic runs endless through the gutter Styx

This city is an empty vessel
With mass every day
Triumphantly awaiting its own pointless decay

Away from the white Stork feathers
Often seemed to be gentle breeze
On Kans grasses
Superficial white clouds
Small dinghies on the river
To navigate the life

Far away on the bridge
The Silent movement of the Brahminy kite
Southern breeze blew
Tilting the tall grasses toward the North
Leak of the light fell into the Kans,
Into the Soft green grasses

Sunlit mingled with light fog
Seek heavenly feeling
Without the knowledge
The lips Stir of

Walking beside the river
Barefooted
In the air Kestrel's mystic music
The river running with full of chime

What are the forms of you!
Thee bind me with deception!
What a Strange tune!
What those thirsty words!

So that I draw your image
Moving away from the shadows
Soft light blended with the estuary
Away,
Little by little,
To see your face
Like the rig of Ship

Behind the path
A magical dream
Seems like a White Shirt  
That I had left in the Kans grasses

The twisted reality is that bones break. People literally break and you dont always get better. Lives end, stories end, and people rarely get new beginings. The twisted reality is that none of what you thought as a kid was true. Not everyone can be president, and you cant be who you want to be. The twisted reality is that there are monsters in some little girls rooms, and thier moms cant make them go away. The twisted reality is that nightmares only end when you do, you dont get to wake up and think everything is fine. The twisted reality is that your parents lie to you. Not everyone is beautiful, not everyone is talented, and not everyone can be special. The twisted reality is that someone in your current school will become a 'villian' before thier life is over. The twisted reality is that we are all villians. Doing horrible things for what we think is right. The twisted reality is that most people will ignore what i am saying. Live in the lie. The twisted reality is people die thinking everything is fine.

She grew tired
of having to hide
from her need
to look deeper outside

so she struck up a match
and she burned
down all of her prisons
and never returned.

I
Little bear

My Red Indian girl
approaches with
Sun waves behind her.
Rays broken on
wheat sheaf, brown
pollen flies, dither,
vulture on cut poppy heads.

Hands gently brush
bull rush, torches
of an ancient fire
That burns, that burns
the curling hearts of ferns.

‘I want to meet you there
My love,
Who stares
at the sky
like a
Sun flower.'

II

Scorched earth

The holy fire
that licks from your
Irish mouth. The
Catholic words,
that spill from your
holy spirit.
Hang in the air
like ragged linen
on a ***** child.

‘My empty boy,
Let me slip my hands
Under your gas mask
And kiss the chlorine from your mouth,’

III

We are the Sun Warriors

when we're together.

strung out,
drugged up,
lovers of light,
lovers of the summer
Drought and bubble mud.

‘I want, I want
our stitched up hearts.
And when we’re gone, please let us lie
In a heathen space
and find our heaven in the sky.’

IV

The Sun

That ****** spot,
Blinks.
Gods eye though
screamed at
gives no reply.    

That ****** spot
blinks
in a empty sky
I opened my heart to god
and heard you reply.