a somber radar, unblinking eyes
because I was so focused on
the beating glare of the sun

right eye has swollen shut
bruised flesh clouding
tender like pond water

do not ask nor ponder
music blasting for
no one to understand

I don't need your hand
I got the railing
before I caught the concrete

no fists were failing
there is much more meaning
than what meets the eye

smell of faint, brisk summer morning
baby blue tennis shoes
running puddles of water
glimpses of smooth obsidian
on the slathered pavement,
black umbrella in one hand
a brewed cup of coffee,
unleavened with sweetness of cream
like the way the rain drizzles
without the kindness of a meadow stream
splash, the puddles ripple
and the rain creates apparent wrinkles
in the air and wet scenes
forged into a single continuity
which curves at the edges,
and swells in the appendages,
the body of a rainy summer morning
aching from long night's fast,
weeping like the endeavors
of single stroke of solitude,
the joy and vibrant yellows
ellipsed by the buffering grey morn

From the dusk I wake
And dawn I sleep
Living in a backwards relativity
I would rather have it
Just you and me

That moment when
The shards of the sun
Drift like embers
And catch fire,
Igniting the earth
With its brilliance,
Momentarily pulling
Those who are buried
Out of their trance

everything I ever wanted
is on the other side of fear?
really?
everything I ever wanted,
truly,
is on the other side
of other's stupidity

A croaking frog
Swirling grey smog
Taught air by brittle tempest
Breaching that which
Is called home
Moment of silence
Since departure of its wrath
A sudden flicker in consciousness
Glimpses such marvelous realms
I sat in aghast

my love
my bones
my eyes
and teeth
and skin
and feet
a hearth
in the pit of my stomach
have built
a new
home

when I was born*
I can't recall being still
for all I have ever wanted
was to repaint
*the world

to abate this sorrow,
this swallowing vacuum succumbed in
a whirlwind of grief,
I stumble to a halt, needing, pleading
limping for a form of inspiration
the thundering bolts which course in my veins,
the sparkling light which shines every morn,
the beautiful way my heart pounds
to the rhythm of my feet,
I grieve over the loss, the startling new reality
so sudden and sharp I almost lost balance,
then had to stop in a cross-section
of cones spilling over pavement
and the magenta sky waning in her descent,
I stop and sit, look and breathe,
and understand that my heart still pounds,
the wind still sings, the light still shines
and my feet will have to rest
why I wait during these days
and cherish the moments
to welcome balance to regain her feet,
like a marvelous, marvelous guest

That old man,
Of twinkling eyes
And handsome cheeks
Carved like a landscape
From a slender blade,
Eyes the softest glimmer
Of a cerulean hue
My dear old friend,
Of a voice rumbling deep
And laughter to always keep
And the kindest words
Swelling with wisdom
Trailed by stark wit and humor
May you rest in peace
Knowing that you have
Arrived to eternal sleep

No I am not a freak
a relative dancer
an ecstatic frown snuck under fog
my streak has dwindled to smog
the smoke has risen to the distant mountains
painted rivulets careened by printing presses
as the glint in gleams has faded
to creaking floor boards
contoured faces tightly ridden in barks
as my eyes gleam to the horizons and morrows
no I am not a freak

the rocking chair creaked, its wooden beams
sagging underneath the weight at the seams,*
the love affairs, the sweet motherly memories
seeped into its grains, into the sockets
which eyes stare from an high, high place
wonder, wonder what these eyes
ingrained in the wood would say
about the lives of its companionships
rocking the bodies of souls,
hurting and bleeding,
laughing and sleeping
sore all over so it strained to stand up
and trembling with exhaustion to finally rest
upon the rocking chair...
a rocking chair, with eyes gnarled with siege
sieged, surely, by imperfections embodying the
*the spirit of human lifetimes

I'm riding a rollercoaster, my friend
with no seat belts
So I better hold on tight
there's about to be a flip
and my world is going
to be thrown upside down

a girl only of eighteen
sitting in a lonely room
with windows to personalities
she can only have dreamt for
meeting those she despised
and those she love
once when she feels comfortable
they decide to close to their panes
knocking on the glass,
they only walk away
so she lived her entire life
walking in and out of panes
watching as each window vanish,
and she sits in this room,
she decorated with paint
and words from authors
which kept her sane
the bright morning light filters through
and leaves pink flares
she presses her head to the walls,
and ponder which way to go
she needs the greatest downpour
of shivering rain which smells like
the pours of an ocean coral
she needs the greatest uproar
of golden reflections
which keeps her warm at night
which way is the door?
a hand extended to help her
to show her how to feel
very much alive,
and to get back on her feet
she's tired of meeting those people
which leaves her emotions sore

the comfort of a deep-seated sofa
scruffy and a dark green
sink into its comfort,
the air stale and chilly
a stack of books
silence from the mind
is a salve
a moment to be
without being scathed
from reality

For those
Who are healing,  
Don’t pick
At the scabs

The moon cradled in its throne
The leaves scatter and crackle
Like the bite of winter’s reprise
Alas, light twinkling
Rectangular scores of color
~oranges and yellows,
Faint and rich
The city is an ocean of light
Alive and swimming
Like the scales of a
Glittering fish

our lives aren't monologues
where one can dictate
what touches us or not
sometimes such miracles
are inevitable
no matter
how brief
in the grand
scale of
things

my heart betrays me
knowing, witnessing a definite pitfall
I've run through these toxic hills
have heaved for breath
and quenched the consuming fire
with slow, deliberate pails of water
as flames scorched my everglades, my morning dew
and golden grass fields,
I have tasted these winds
and ash already collect on my tongue
I betray my own
for I hope

looking for you
is like searching for a
gap in the clouds,
under the blanket of night
scattered with ocean sprays
whilst searching down alleyways
lit with fountains of light,
so with a punctured vision
and clothes drenched cold
through a city I don't know
I still search for you

the expanse between
my ribcage
feels like nothing
like grey,
it's cold and heavy
numb and blind,
wading through it all,
my spirit is shrouded
with fog
its tendrils spill through
the rig bones, consuming
as it goes
I hide in a shell
clinging to the things
which I do know
to weather this storm
of stillness,
as I search for a light
of a magnificent source

(A haiku my nine year old brother wrote:)

space is fantastic
like a ball of purple yarn
inside a cat pool

sea bitter tinted cerulean
forth bristle lungful of breath
frothy waft earth's flagrance
the forest rests upon moon's pearly swoon

you wonder
why I keep to myself*
well, who would
after being so comfortable as
*another second thought

welcome back,
my sweetness
spoke my hair
sighed my eyes
as I eased, climbed back
into the familiarity of my skin
I have missed you
glanced my hips
battered my eyes
touched my lips
you are home, back
to you now
my bones smiled
my muscles cradled
my soreness slowly ceased
and I breathed