on
        albatross wings
                                      i flew
                                            inspired to fledge
and grow out & off
                          my comfortable nest
                                                            my wings
        i did expand from small tight
             to broad - broad wide

thanks to you
                    who signposted
                             my wild flight of fancy
                                                             who fed me

from their private stash of goodies

                               who saw me fly up on the edge              

             of reason on majestic wings

                         if but for
                                                     a season.....
maybe two.....

What do you say to a child in pain
when nothing can ease the burn,
          the hole,
the enveloping wave
          of darkness?

Words are not a chain
to fastly anchor
          one's soul,
to cling, to save,
          to harness.

Time is the only healing rain
to calm the churn,
          make whole,
to fill the vase,
          drown the sharpness.

And love. Mountains and oceans of love.
This is all I have to give.
My words are not enough.

5/15/14

My ink may run
as black as coal,
as dark as
a dark night
of the soul.

Or flow red hued
like the morning sky;
as red as love,
or red man's blood
on hard-baked clay.

Yellow ink hues
my many suns,
my moons
the color of
dry bone.

Blue-inked waves
may wash my
blues away,
or sing the blues as blue
as muddy waters.

Gray ink clouds
on a fog-shrouded
empty highway
take me from here
to the Blue Ridge
mountains.

White-capped sailors
sail the arctic
as lost as
my white ink
on a blank page.

r ~ 5/13/14

"Follow your heart," they say,
drawing a map in their mind of the path
they think you should take.
I think this is bad advice;
if my heart is as lost as my mind, then I'm surely ******.
Walking in the dark is always a mistake.
Maybe I can find my own way.
But all I've got is a single match and a thousand dry trees.
If roots are thirsty mouths, then where is the voice?
The silence does not put me at ease.

The amount of words
Shared in a stare
Is nearly infinite
Take special care.

Ride the moment
And walk away knowing
Communication
Naturally flowing.

I wasn't prepared
When I embraced your eyes
False, deceitful,
Composed of lies.

Everything I knew
Stripped away
With your emotionless stare
Pools of gray.