the night whispers the black water fall of ashes
that bloom into the sparrows of sorrow...


the sorrow sparrows are back again
sitting in the tangled woods of twisted trees.

Van Gogh heard their voices
bouncing off love's walls.

the sorrow sparrows are leaning into me.
my sad eyes, dream of you brother.

I lean into the soft lit room
searching for love's quiet hours,
with sunlight flickering through willow trees.

"don't cry, darlin," my wife whispers.

the edge of good bye
soft and slow.

the shiver of night
and you fell into the arms
of night
and hope knelt
like a whimpering dog.

the chair across empty

and in the seams of sleep
i find the words I never spoke....

and in a dream,

i can trace my fingers slowly
along your cheek,
feel the warmth of skin,
and the edges of longing
fall into place.

how far is heaven?

did you see the dog outside the bar the night we met.? she was tied to the parking meter pole. a huge puppy and all she kept doing was licking my hand. Snowflake. she was huge and white and it was the night of the blizzard. sweet and beautiful Snowflake, and then gone. isn't that the way of all beautiful things? but not gone if we hold the moment, it has to be held with the heart. that's the only way....Snowflake dead....COLD
BLOODED MOON
...

big rat, bigger cat
who eats
who runs

who makes the rules

big rat, bigger cat.

the rat has sharp teeth,
sits on a throne of broken bones,
stares through eyes of shattered glass,
no future
no past.

who s first,
who s last,

the rat's heart
loosely wrapped
barbed wire

who s first
who s fast

big rat, bigger cat

but King Rat has dreams,
wants a kingdom

an alley chat

the cat asks, meow?

snakes in the garden of eden?
wolves in suits?
crows on the telephone wire?

every throne
every king
a reckoning

alley chat, alley cat,
the cat gives, a wink.

deep and wide,
the cat smiles the gate,

"trust me."

eyes on the pavement,
the tiny architectects
of sky bound prayers.

the children draw dreams
with chalk-stained hands
on the cracked concrete,
flowers, and sky bound birds,
and home and stars and rainbows.

a shimmer of light on stone.

will the chalk bleed before the bloom?

the indifferent blue,
the remnants of love.

the warm and longing eyes
once wide with wonder
now so cruel

because time is cruel

when love drifts down slowly
like fog and then dissipates.

have you ever ridden
the pale horse of death,
sought relief in madness or love,
and so reached for the sky
hoping for a miracle?

a hand to hold, a bed to share,

only the lonely feel the quiet ache
of one shadow falling on snow.

the monarch butterflies
above the sand dunes.

orange and black wings fluttering,
enjoy eternal maps, (no glove compartment)

the smell of ocean salt
in the morning air.

they lift higher and higher
the journey begins
as it has for thousands of years

(the artist's brush)

one morning they fly

a journey of thousands of miles.
the moment that begins and never ends,

sand and sea and serendipity.