I, seek
that crest in clouds.
A mountain of time,
awaits my feet.

This defeated path,
has peaks of highs and lows.
Some descend beyond the crust,
into depths of unknown.

The tracks I lead and leave,
void not others.
But, stray far from the norm,
each step soon becomes my own.

As I climb, the steps awake,
in the land and mark fate.
These steps can’t be wiped away,
instead they freeze.

One wrong step,
could prove to be my last.
Even ******, I climb,
over each obstacle.

It is endless, it seems.
The time spent,
day after day lifting each foot.
Trying to live in moment.

Or, I could let my feet rest,
let them stop and settle.
But, longing will still plague,
my soul, my being.

So I seek the endless,
shroud that towers over.
I will continue,
the fight, my fate, my journey.

I, was the one
whom he was with.
Our glances reminded us
of summer sweat
and silk fingers.
Weaving together
as we both kept
the grasp as we raced.
Blurred laughter,
from one scene to
the next.
Giddy as children,
catching frogs, in
mid summer.
She, was the one
whom I was with.
During the equinox
of changing color.
The brush of leaves
fell, from high above.
As we embraced the
gentle morning.
Before each pupil,
left for the day.
I watched, from two
rows down.
It was the last year.
The last my eye met,
your profile.
That day you left.

Now…

You are whom I was with.
Long ago under canopy,
each afternoon to
climbing dusk.
With our glances,
as you give gesture of greeting.
I can see it in your eye,
that you remember me.

Wrapped and tied by time.
I felt it seep,
into the world around me.
Always taking never giving.
As it absorbed… slowly.
It pushed the pins,
of the past into the realm,
of my present.
To escape the things,
I store away.
Lids of my sight close,
to view an asian forest.
Riddled with bamboo,
with filter of green and dusk
I feel myself sleeping,
near coy and a soft brook.
I dreamt I was a white wolf
in a green asian forest.  
Hunting my brother.
The wolf dark with time.
He was where darkness seeks,
to infect and seep.
I feel myself breathing,
deeper and deeper.
Slowly, the darkness around,
lifts enough and calms.
Stillness, and the light song of evening.
I feel myself calming, breathing,
and letting go.

It was much more than
wind, it was as if
your spoken verse
pushed me

it was early
just before
the radiance revealed
cloaked mist lands
wet in dew

reading what
I received in slumber
you broke the silence
in the effort to mend
the loose stitches

but there is nothing...
the life rushed out
leaving not a simple drop
stitching would not change
what I lost

so I converse in the act
of silence
hoping that maybe
your tailwind
that pushed me
would die

A fortnight
Will be our measure
For those who seek
An idea of independence
Beyond these chambers
Of steel and stone
Lies of beggars
Weeping urchins
And slept scent ******
Cheer on those judged by gavel
They are roped to truths
That they forswears

A fortnight
After this night
We will be our measure
Will it be justice to, whom
Society?, ‘tis not justified
Judgments of weak eyes and mind
They keep them like stones
In their shoes
Weighing them down
With hate, greed and sins of old

Before we squander
Away a chance
and before this
fortnight will reach
a certain ******
we will fill our eyes
with independence

Watching through the pane
Your hands as cuffs
As you unveil the earth
Tending what you sow
The Night Before last
Under the blood moon
It was that night
Where we spoke and
Planted seeds of old ideals
We would be as the land
Nurturing one another
As we both worked
To bring callused hands
Gripping the fruits
Of our labor
To our humble
Farm house table
These days would be long
Out in ribbons of gold
And slight scent of country roses
Would be our remuneration
These are our seeds
That we both planted
That we will water
That we will grow
Soon my love
As they are ready
We will pick each
Dream and live

Walking alone
Spied by stubborn boys
With big green eyes
Stopping to see
His Birch wood hair

Walking alone
During the day of
Communion cups
And blood dripping
Dripping down
From his thorn crown

Walking empty
Through the rock stares
Thrown his way

Walking on the path
Lined with cedars
Limping to the judgments
Folks bring to the
Evening table

I am walking
With sins and tin cups
And a ******* dog

Black berry bushes
Wagon wheel fields
And a paint chipped house
Is where you
Spent your younger years

Fragrant straw
And fresh dew
Filled your mornings

Clinking mason jars
Were the bells
That rang in the,
full breath of summer

sprinkle of soil
on your cheek
bare feet
and a dog
named Cash

if I was there
if we met then
this is how I see you
and how I would fall
in love

She laid beneath
a canopy of silk
her hands still with elegance
and body clamped with corset
eyes barely reflecting
the detail in the Morris wallpaper
She was entangled in emptiness
the pitter patter of drops
echoed the feeling in the room
it surrounded her summer body
even though the air was winter
as he stared
his eyes reflected back
a story of summer
rejecting laying with winter
as the cold prevails
in a lustful rigid strength  
she is now a statue captured
in this moment
frozen
he remembered thinking
“How beautiful”

I sometimes forget or regret
Not knowing you
Your roots run deep
As does mine
But your shaded limbs
Stole my light
Pilfered my water
You were a rotted tree
Plagued with fungus
that grew into your mind
infecting the heartwood
it poured out through your limbs
spilling into the air
choking the saplings
as we fought for light

it was only then
when you were cut
removed from grounded roots
that we could feel the
warmth of the sun
that fueled our growth

The wood is calm
From my bedroom window
Limbs sway gently
Giving tranquility  
I seek refuge in this moment
While chaos starts to breath
From the heart of house
With each gasp
the yelling screams
as it stains through the wall
my eyes falter only once
turning to the hall
as if to see it
creep up into my bedroom
breeding its hate
I turn
seeking refuge…again
in the wood
it is a slight calm
in this chaos

they come fast
puncturing my very soul
my body only a coffin
if they stay trapped

it is torture
this feeling of eagerness
relentless fists punching
through my very chest

once my sternum breaks
blood, bone and marrow
splats on the digital canvas

pouring out everything
to the last drop
of creative blood

though satisfied
of the ******
what I see before me
is strategic
as a general in war

a visual interpretation
of society
feeding the design of
consumerism

Oh yes this work
of my blood, flesh and bone
they will consume in such
drunk laughter

like cannibals they
will judge, speak, and post
of the visual
that lead them to
experience the indulgent gorge

Pass the pasture
of four legged wool
beyond the knoll
and to the hill
here is where I sat
as still as a frighten fawn
the fragrance of sweet grass
and black berries
filled the air
remembering my
grand fathers words
“hard times will come”
“experience you will gain”
my nostrils widen
taking in the fragrance
I shall not burden myself
with these boulders
instead my eye and mind
will transcend pass
this physical beauty

As the night
sifted through the light
she watched and faded
as the dark as ink

slowly engulfed her
she waited
she expected
to hear those three
and let the sound wrap
around the fold of her ear
to softly whisper through
to her soul
then out every digit
bringing light
to those around her
there she stood
where straw mostly grows
a vast empty clearing
dark and slightly dusted
with cold
she watched and now waiting
for the warmth and light
to return

You will find me
In willows
Plucking fire files
From the evening
As poets ink
and weave lines

It is where I am
Most humble
Here under
Dreadlock canopy
It harbors and sings
An evening sonnet
As leaves tune the wind

My ink flows well here
Soft and forgiving
Along the parchment
Like the tamed northeast
Blowing through limbs above

You  will find me
In willows
Lost in pages
Of past loves and
Attempts for forgiveness

This timber is tall and full
Sending down strains
Of blades that I forge
When in reach
I pull to review
An inspiration, a memory
A past love

I sometimes wonder when
My willow will give in
And not lend its
Strains down to me

That is why I reach farther
Holding what I can
Because frankly
I like being lost
Lost in willows

My palms hit
With every step

Weightless …

Moving lightly
Swiftly along paved routes
I am fast
Perfect in form

Perfect …

I am always running
From what is
From what is now
And who will be

Faster…

I say to self
limbs tense
My gate in full

Pushing…

Determined
People say I am
Of things needed
And wanted

Farther…

Just a little more
It s right there
Its in reach

Finishing

Why?  How can I?
Looking forward
Eyes fixed on horizon

Passing…

Not giving in
I have much yet to tread
Because I enjoy

Running…

It is felt
When rays dip below
The unforgiving trees

It is felt
In late autumn
When color is ******
From the land
Leaving towering skeletons

It is felt
In the depth of winter
Where silence
Blankets the house

It is felt
Even in spring
Where gardens are like children
Cared for and fed
But now starved and dead

It is felt
Yes it is
I have felt
This… for years

it was sometime in November
amid caffeine, books,
and fermented spirits
we laid parallel
as the morning sang a hymn
welcoming the new day
the air was between
crisp and warm
you could hear
the crunch of fallen blades
as pupils rush
to their next shift
transfixed in wonder
of who will give in
to the morning
our bodies
navigating  an endless sea
of tangled cloth
trying not to cross
into lands that border our own
even though these exquisite
properties became one
in the dark before last
it was sometime in November
you turned over in graceful play
and smiled
with nervous blinks
that complimented
the lingering sentiment
of autumn

Streaks of gold
Flicker through the canopy
While it lights the cabin
Here is where
I notice the features of you
Its luminance is fitting
To every inch
Your gaze is fixed
Upon the painted green
You don’t feel
My mind mapping
The exquisite soft details
Perfect in any position
You quickly turn
Your strains wisp
Caught by unforgiving wind
In seamless unison
You ask
“Where are we going?”
A slight pause
Remembering
How my heart lifts
When meeting your gaze
I respond with the smile
“You’ll see my love”

You are among the wicked
Left in desperate rain
Ferociously trying
To wash away the sins
Of the label
Given during my birth
The desperate rain is kind
At least it tries to be
Every droplet
Drips from your
Cemented state
Untainted and clear
You are stuck
In the harden retched filth
That plagues your being
It can not be swept away so easily
Since then, I have left
Leaving you to drown
As you wait
For the desperate rain
to pour

She laid beneath
dew and cloaked pine
her hands slight with curve
toes in agonizing arch
eyes barely reflecting
the soft green moss
that entangled auburn strains
the pitter patter in the distance
echoed a stillness in the wood
it surrounded her winter body
even though the estival air
was dank and heavy
as I stared
my eyes reflected back
a story of winter
laying with summer
in harmonious still lust
a statue captured
in this moment
is hidden in pinewood
I remember thinking
“How beautiful”

Among concrete timber
They hover
Through the hard scape
Haunting those who pass
Begging for societies rewards
They float without notice
Without eyes meeting
They are taboo
Not worthy of your court
Or a nurturing society
Sentence to loitering
The ghosts

The ghosts of LA

Beyond the ridge
Together we clamber down
The pitch is sharp
With field floral and dust

Sister in forefront
And I far behind
Limping to the tune
Of catching up

My Naked feet scarred
By fierce barbs
The palms bleed
beet red

Gripping the handle
Of a vessel of water
That didn’t escape
Once from its spout

We stop amongst
Sapling timber
As the gold
Lights the terrain

This jaunt is meant for two
It is made before the gold sleeps
A ritual of emotion
Within each of us

Its purpose is to pour
The putrid water
That plagues us
And our thoughts

We are inconsolable
Son and daughter
So we pour each day
Into the puddle

Droplets of memory
Splashes of abuse
Ripples of habit
Spray of deception

Since then
The puddle is no longer
But a vast body of liquid
A lake

Most have been swallowed
Except for a small parcel
Where we rest our feet
Upon the ridge

The flood has taken years
But we hold the ****
And nail it shut
The pressure is there

We can feel it
One of us will have to
break
To release the flow

One of us will have to…


break.........

A river carved
between nobles
One for sinful pleasures
the other a white voice of reason

amongst the multitude of rapids
they spill
sinful and holy colors
into the river
canceling the other
to a gray tinge

it is balanced
but one side could
seize the other
in noble duel
of swordsmanship of fate
flooding the land that dictates
giving into their waters

we are the estuary
that obtains these actions
thus the color of the river
feeds into and tints
the larger self, the ocean

Summer seeped in night
And I standing in shimmer
In forefront of the door
Watching a moth
Hover by the bulb
Chirps in the distance
Set the silence in tune
Staring like radio static
At the moth and light
I tune out the cries and abuse
Of the one who gave warmth
you were there… you know
in impaired stumble
on the edge of light
out of the dark
you grabbed…me
by my scruff
hurled the fragility
into the bed of your chariot
you screeched
“We are going to Cali”
the horse power rumbled
we drove
and I like radio static
never took my eyes
off the bulb or moth

Cast away thy woes
bring bounty to the table
We and I shall feast
Yes, we feast
Like kings of old
Fill thee salver
keep steins wet
and we shall feast
now come fill your court
with kindred spirit
and dance in linear toe
until thy fellowship
is askew and crapulous
laugh through thy belly
and out through thy nose
neck the nearest matron
thy night is early
and daily labor is through
now drink my chap
my friend, my kin
before the night is through

there is a piano
it sits amongst woodland shroud
your tread
are what press the keys
to play a melody
of a woodland experience
this hymn
is different for each
as it entertains
the one that it suits
that one is you
so play the piano
the piano
in the woods

it is about the time
when gold meets
the earth

the light emitted
romantically sings
the land to slumber

it is about the time
when thoughts drift
and eyes wander

they follow
painted brush strokes
made by pulling winds

it is about the time
you call
it is distant and faint

a sweet sound
carried to my ear
as it is meant to be

it is about the time
I turn to you in half light
As twilight fills your face

It is beautiful
soft and warm
in the waning sun

among the bustle of clacking heels
and conversations through frequencies
speaking to someone
you will never meet, nor care to
they sway in the midst
of cemented construction
determined to uphold unforeseen judgement
they are of rats, fussing for crumbs
nibbling on social order
dictating instincts of survival
they shuffle, bustle and hustle
to destinations near and far

however, in this carnage
there is a moment between

it is a moment
lasting, only a few
where an action
disrupts this daily migration
it can be as simple
as a bird floating into view
or as tragic as death

it is that moment between
the bustle and the action
where we find emptiness
a truly euphoric state

Within men
there lies a deep crevasse
blacker than black
it is hidden but not forgotten
you step in
among the black
a shrine of rot
once stiff and steady
the guardian here
can no longer mend
he is one man enclosed
in ragged rice paper walls
governing the atmosphere

that is sprinkled with false stars
the guardian though frail
keeps the light yet faint...alive
without one acknowledgment
of presence
he says:
*“one wrapped in contract
shall not be cursed
the light awaits to be nurtured
come now
stay and rest
for this will mend
and fill this black crevasse”

clouds as curtains
cover the woody stage
it is gray and silent
then a sound softly lifts
as a frigid shroud prowls
they begin to pirouette
gracefully in quick allegro
filling the stage
as they cloak the silent forest
the tempo quickens
as each beautiful shimmer
in chaotic choreographic elegance
coat the stage in white
the tempo doubles
a barrage of white
dancing to the tune
the stage now full
the twinkle of the new
falling stars
ready their final bow
the tempo fades
clouds as curtains open
revealing a shining canvas
the moon is in place
and the silence now kept

song held in morning
echos across summers mist
splash a loon dives in

The dunes are tall,
but, we can still hear the crash.
The smell of salt reminds us,
of treasured frames.
You asked if I remembered,
“yes” I do remember that one.

Flour like sand,
it cradled our feet.
Our palms smacked,
the land.
As we progressed,
to our full stride.

Loops of gold,
surrounded us.
Tickling the laughter out of us,
it echoes beautifully.

In slow romance,
your gaze meets mine.
That is when you turned,
'click' a pose framed,
by my eye.

The shutter captured,
a moment of escape.

the peasant with nothing to offer
but, rock of bread

they vowed to each other
the eternal devotion

and with every union
a male shall support
the house
and female shall
tend the house

daily labor
filled with black
stained his skin

the remuneration
was barley sufficient

she offered her talents
of the morphing avifauna

feeling hopeless
they pursued
and flaunted her majesty

the worlds eyes did pay
with plenty

but greed stained
the her feathers

until yet another
wanted the relentless
curves and talents
of the female tengu

the count
made his presence known
he persuaded the wedded

that greed is now what binds
with a swoosh
her majesty was swept

locked behind stone
taken away from him
her love

A high moon in a glittering canvas
it dances among the ragged crests
following us to northern forest
where a boreal landscape
is soft with white veneer
reflecting back to the sky
from which it came
your eyes gaze in wonder
through the pane
as the blur of dark races pass
your feet on the dash
and your face lit by a full winters night
you smile

Violins will play a melody
For those who wear purple
You there in time lapse motion
Will fluidly show this
Violins will play a melody
Each limb will inherit motion
Graceful as it is
It will be slow and it will fade
Violins will play a melody
Fit for people in purple
As seen in monarchy
Underneath doors to heaven
Violins will play a melody
For you… the one in purple

Fast moving water
Yet we float forward forever
Please don’t float so fast

Peering through the pane
My eyes fixated on color
A brilliance
Lit by a golden glow
I place my hand on the pane
Cold and crisp
It is Sunday morning
And silent
The faint sound of the breeze
Keeps silence in tuned
I am now in trance
As I peer through
My breath slightly fogs
It is Sunday morning
And I am tuned with silence

“just a small dream”
“It was childish to think…”
I thought

The cold stole my breath
And froze each digit

“It was childish to think…”

My body slunk into white
As the thought raced through

“It was childish to think…”

“that”

“I”

“could”

“fly”

Mist today is effervescent
It lurks during the morn
This marks the end of renewal
And slowly tucks green to sleep

The Mist softly heralds in
A painted landscape
And the smell of falling blades

The straw now bowed
To the slight sent of cold
As the Mist clambers up and down
To bed in the deepest valleys

Finally blanketing
And settling on the landscape

This is to you
The one who
Ran through the wood
Passing by apples
Through the grove
To the left
Thats where you always
Found me
It was a game you see
We played among the trees
Just the two of us

You’d follow me and I you
A complete bond
That only some experience
You my silent friend

You jumped through life’s hoops
Yes you suffered the hardships
But you stood loyal
As no other friend
You leaped through them all

There was one hoop
I never jumped
It aches my heart
The feeling rips my chest

It was goodbye
I wish I stayed
And helped you jump through
This is why I write to you

Now run! Faster!
Dash through the wood
Pass the restraints of the trunks
To open space
Were the smell of sweet grass  
Fills your soul
Run, run I say
Go with such speed
Feel the freedom
Stretch your limbs
Let them feel light

But don’t look back my dear friend
Flee from his hand
Flee from that life
I was powerless to stop
Run! Run!
But don’t look back
Wait for me
on the other side of the field
I will meet you there
And we will play again
You will find me
In our place

Wait for me

This is to you
And now I say
Goodbye

I can finally jump through
Wait for me my friend
My dear, dear friend

deep within the depths
of an unbound spell
sits a boy in a bed of grass
endless blue fills above
and the wind carries a soft touch
suddenly black covers
pulling the curtain over the set
surrounding the urchin with


silence


black


a voice bounded through
it was a strange tone:

italicI am of the unseen
tangible I am not
we are you
you are we
we are what could be
we are what shouldn’t be

there are thousands of me
you... but one
one should be wise
though your choice
could be your demise
you will choose italic

growing faint
the darkness lifted
here I found

myself

in a field

She is the pedal
they come to gaze upon
her slow dance
where she will meet the ground
the music starts this custom
filling the air with a hypnotic trance
she begins her decent
bending and twisting
the wind her choreographer
she beautifully floats
not one scuff of her feet
she has honed this skill
the stage is set
with a glow of orange lanterns
and perfect wood detail
frames her exquisite shape
as she gets closer
the instruments grow faint
in slow time lapse motion
the pedal has reached the ground

humble and mighty
a bear leaves behind a trail
the white cloaks its end

Each of us a stream
Flowing over today's trials
Each new splash trains us

When the house and isle;
Is steeped in morning
The weathered structures
Almost blend in the calm
Their gray matches;
The somber mood
This place is still and fine-tuned
To the hum of distant waves
The wind that blows here
Is light today and gentle
The mist has settled
Upon the Gray Lady
As if orchestrated by artists
Softly she sounds her beacon
A whisper riding the white caps
To the vessels that make way
To her gentle morning shores

we lost you in April
during the rains
it was as if the sky was grieving
we lost you right before the blooms
that awake during the crisp morning
we lost you, and it is April again
they speak to you now in silence
and in memory
we lost you…yes
maybe physically
but, I see you during the spring
where life is full and lush
I see you in the cardinals  
they fly free in ribbons of gold
this is where I see you
among blue hydrangeas

the light is red
8:01am is the time I see your right directional
we meet here on the corner of Crosby and Abbey
you are always dressed for daily labor
collars pressed to perfection
your make up even rivals Cleopatra
I spy from your rear-view
it is glimpse into your reality
I long for eyes to embrace
with it a smile
but, I turn with each glance
this a forbidden chance
a full 3 minutes of a pure dream
then you turn right,
and I left

Walking in the dark
Myself peering from each corner
Representing who one could be
Their eyes full of temptation
Hesitate each step
Waving digits like neon signs
Gesture to meet
These selves are evidence of things unseen
Desires only known to me
These desperate figures of embrace
Are who make up the dark
That have hollowed out my husk
In the dark we feel belonging
This is where I am kept
Until I choose
Amongst the horde of fates

Here I sit
Boiled by the days rising water
Its close I fear to the edge
The splashes singe what’s left
Temperature rising
It roars out of control
Hands finally touch five
A simmering day, coming to an end
The day now a vessel
Removed from the source
To cool the angry waters