overcast, slight chill
theater popcorn scent drifts
my footsteps echo

music fills a room
like a heart fills up a chest

listen.  breathe.  listen.

got caught on a tree, just had to tell you
a branch drew blood, and on my arm printed
an entrance stamp to this special venue,
written in red: a place for the wounded.

“how are things going, i wish you were here
what’s the weather like and have a good time
how ‘bout a toast with your favorite beer
i hate to go now, it feels like a crime”.

something made me stop, i wasn’t yet done,
i looked back and saw, while nursing my scar,                    
the colors and shapes had blurred into one:
a singular vision, clear from afar.

the carved stones nestled in the grass, just mown
looked like lost feathers from a flock, just flown

i'm a midwesterner, born and bred.  but
i lived in the neon dust bowl for a
little while and learned that open space is
good for the soul.  souls need to breathe, and roam
like horses over the sands.  i loved the
drive from Las Vegas to L.A. because
there's nothing like the desert wind in your
lungs to make you feel like living again.
something pulls me back to that time and place.
i don't know exactly why, but i guess

you just have to return to be reborn.

blue-collar artists
that's what we all are, looking
for perfect beauty

it was cold and sunny
and as i drove into my parents' neighborhood i saw
my dad walking the dog
i rolled down the window and shouted, "hello"

(the dog was so excited to see me)

my dad helped me with my taxes
and my mom said her scar from surgery was healing well

i later went to see a play
with only nine people in the audience
but the two actors were on fire

they both were eating apples
and one was smashed on the stage
underneath an angry character's foot

i stared at that crushed apple,
white and red concentric patterns
flattened into the brown stage floor
like a painting yet hung

a work of art
at the end of a cold and sunny day

your hands are doorways to my home.  take a
look inside.  dawn spills into the hall, onto
the wall, splashing across pictures filled with
yesterdays and naked space left over
for tomorrows.  time pulls and pulls, stretching
and stretching until the shadows are so
long they cover everything and all light
has surrendered and retreated in shame.