I left my feet on a pier four days ago.
I lost them to the waves and the shouts of mothers calling their
Children out of the icy water.
I left my feet in the white sheets of a traveling musician.
We had rhythm
And harmony.
It lasted twenty minutes.
I left my feet on the gas pedal of an old Honda,
Pushing as hard as I can to reach sixty.
I left my feet in yesterday.
They are still trying to catch up
With the rest of me.

I dream mostly
in flowers and
in the shape of
your words
pressed quietly
into the skin
behind my right
ear.

Outside the barn ached weakly in the autumn  cold,
The air was still against the magic movements softly exploding in the parallel rows of the hissing sparklers,
The bride and groom would soon pass under their faux glory,
You said I was a good man,
"I know, so are you",
You turned to the ground and stumbled over your confession,
Tripping over the light fog of alcohol in your breath,
"No,
"-no,"
"-I"

"I'm not."

And you walked away
Then the photographer came up to me looking through his one black glass eye and told me
"Say four of the most profound words you ever said."
The hissing stopped,
The light died,
I looked into his magic eye and said
"My sparkler went out."

You laugh to realize your life's perfect
As you chase the Cheshire,
Watching yourself run.
Thin as glass, you dare to be the skyscraper.

Unbreakable.

Your life beside you.
Your past behind you.
It has made you stone.
Unswayed by roads.

You choose your own.

As pitch reflects off pitch,
An unending forest before you.
Fireworks thrown back towards you.
You remain unflinching,

But forever touched.

Figures with hands the size of the heavens.
They flash again, but only for an instance.
Tears held by pride,
But none less meaningful.

Wind in your hand empowering you,
As you stare at a universe of gravel.
a jungle of wispy greens,
The travel brings you back again.

Life is wonderful, I won't let it spoil.

Here I am again,
Confessing the sins of my father manifested in a broken crown prince cracked over kingdoms falling from his tall walls to the rust and the moths before plunging on his polyester floorboard swords,
Yes,
Confessing these things to the carpet strands,
Tidal tales of the waves crashing ghost ships against my chest,
The strength of my youth is spent as a suburban castaway staring through the bars of my island cage built for birds without a voice,
There is an ocean between us,
And I do not know how to swim,
And I see no sign of my tugboat friends,
And I do not have any life saving self crafted defensive mechanical preservation devices to float through my insecurities with,
I am Icarus against a sun setting on these sleeping house that my feather wax weathered oars seem to snap against,
Dimmer days,
Shimmering street lights grab the dusk from the sky,
It is projected upon my midnight eyes,
Dead eyes,
I,
I could cling to these bones but,
They sleep below the earth,
And I stand before the sea,
Do you see me,
Oh God,
You have watched my wells grow dry,
I have set all of my hope on men,
And to you,
I come carrying this broken crown,
Can you hold my hands,
When it is filled with these,
Can you pull me from the water which folds over me