Glimpse of the end
on the way back from daily labor

they are in black
from toe to tip

there to say their last gesture
to the withered

laid gently in a coffer
they gather, in soft afternoon sun

cheeks glistening
with glimmering memories

translucent in nature
but, filled with monochromatic films

to the black this just a moment
a stop in the road ahead

to me, this is merely a glimpse
a window and painted inside
is the destiny set and true

we paint our way
with each stroke and dab

we build what will be remembered
layer upon layer

until we finish
a master piece

there to be seen
for all to witness its majesty

and with one final touch
it turns black

colors mold into one
summing up what you embraced


black smearing even the finest stroke
it is black
becoming nothing

Those words,
grow suddenly like thorn weeds.
Without warning,
they spread wide.
Reaching and choking,
reality to death.
It's a chemical reaction,
like chlorophyll to plants.

Blinded by vines,
that are fed by her light.
Thorns of memories,
dig deep until you bleed happiness.

It's perfectly overgrown,
10 years of blissful growth.
How enchanting,
to wither with you.
Sow our seeds,
and live.

We’ve suffered,
intimate drought,
periods of stunted growth,
dark days with no light.
We began to untwine,
then climb to seek a different light.

That day was our garden calamity,
You no longer fed me your light,
Or Nourished my roots.
You uprooted,
you...left...me.

the moon in glory
lights the twinkle in the snow
a fox softly steps

There is a truth,
in our story.

Treasure in your confused,
curly hair.
Honesty in rain,
that falls on your face.
Finding perfection,
in your sky blue eyes.
The veracity of your voice,
expressed in silence.
Faithfulness of your soft skin,
that quenches my thirst.
Genuine movement,
of you is smooth and knowing.

It is a fact,
a complicated dogma,
that in this doctrine,
we are whole.

In this conviction,
that no rocks could dent.

We are making something,
we both need.

brisk and cold
the painted landscape
engraved deep within

set the stage for what has
been built today

that is when I met the light
it glowed across the room
as a beacon, or light house

gentle and calm
the light tickled every sense
affecting the moment

hands stopped
memorized by the light
intoxicated by the glimmer

we rose over the gathering
in weightless laughter

the light filled my body
with every touch

the light was slightly tuned
to me, for me, to see

yes you are my light
I have found you

you are her
the light, that is for me

Bird on the wire,
your soul connected.
Your flock is close,
but far enough.
The distance you keep,
protects from societal envy.
You sit on the wire,
the highest one.
You sit tall,
far from judgement,
far from the road, the path
all others take.
Bird on the wire,
you see what's coming.
Not the future, no,
but patterns of intellect,
like a jigsaw of events.
Bird on the wire,
you're alone.
An outcast beyond,
the flock.

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

Eyes glazed,
Darkness painted about the room.

Waking, to a humble friend,
at the foot.

You in the next,
I can hear through the plaster.

I keep silent,
not to the disturb the moment.

I listen, to your scrambling,
to perfect the art.

You have left,
just moment ago.

Waking elegantly even,
when soaked in morning.

I smell the concave,
the shape of you.

I listen to you,
as you get ready.

Sounds tell of each step,
as you struggle to keep silent.

How I love, need, want
these taps

It reminds me of little things,
that I keep note.

These are things,
that I savor.

The perfect little things,
of you.

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…

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.

Hope, a field,
not yet grown.
Vast, open and bright.
You shine taller,
a giant.
Clairvoyance jumps,
across your mind's eye.
Move swiftly,
tread the path.
Toward the bright,
burst of gold.

Alas, the gold is,
out of reach.
Your steps did not find their rest.
Crouched in half-light,
the darkness creeps.
The weeds take notice,
they grow steadily.
You are no longer giant.

A field now,
lost of expectation.
Overgrown with disappointment.

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.

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

Find your reflection,
in a lake in the west.

I will be here.

Bring music to the deaf,
let it fill your soul.

I will be silent.

Be the light for those in dark,
shine brightly its a gift.

I will be still in darkness.

Ground yourself in towering peaks,
stand firm and strong.

I am ****** in time.

Find love among Aspens,
lay in the leaves.

I will wait,
and lay with regret.

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”

Magnificent trees
tall and triumph-et, then fall
give life to new timber

Drawing pictures,
is graphite make-believe.
You can bring life,
or darkness.
Are you god?
Do you have control?
Scribbles, judgments,
of squares, circles
and unhappy faces.
Crumble up,
the paper tightly.
Throw away, let go.

Maybe its time,
To start over.

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

Your life a painting
Each day a new stroke
Until you pass
A masterpiece
Displayed to be remembered.

We yearn for control.
Splashing and swimming,
in an ever-changing current.
It will decide when to crash,
when to pull us under,
or let you ride to stable shore.

Everything gets caught,
in this current, even time.
Reflecting yourself,
in glass-like calm.
Or in angry gray waves,
where you’ve lost your reflection,
yourself...

How often do we strive,
for calm waters?
How often do we predict,
the tides?
How often do we think,
of hurricanes?

Why not just go,
for the ride?

I can not write.
My hands ****** in time.
I scream at pixels,
some dead in the corner.
I want to open up.  
Let it pour out as an ocean,
until overwhelming empty.
Composure must be kept,
as this is an art with structure.
The words must perform,
as dancers do before an audience.
As they read this,
it is only half of what is felt.
They can’t smell the rot,
that infects backstage.
The nagging screams,
that would make the world deaf.
Or be blinded by black,
during the bright of day.
I just want to be felt.
Release the tension,
of societies chains.
Or your chains perhaps.
They choke,
my voice,
inhibit my steps.
I want to just run.
Each send is a cry,
in a soundless megaphone.
Can I reach them?
Does this reach you?
I can’t write anymore.
Press send.
Scream.

Dark and black,
coffee spilled.
Crimson spoiled,
white paper walls.
Empty stares,
full of wonder and fear.
Few connections,
what will be next.
People in the hallway,
one near the door.
A pearl high in the sky,
illuminates tears.
A door slams,
silence speaks.
Innocent screams,
in dramatic collapse.
Man tightens grip,
war has begun.
Stillness in the room,
a man at peace.

Go north,
into Frost’s domain.
Comparing your soul,
and walk the same path.
Stomp the ground,
to make it real.
Walk in the wood,
in the grass and snow.
Follow the steps,
learned from the past.
Diverge in the thicket,
and follow your heart.

How did you do it?
Will I have to die to?

You never were here.

After you cut the cake,
was our fate sealed?

Did it hurt when you,
realized…

What was your thought,
one second before?

Did you ever really,
laugh?

Why did it take,
so long?

How did you look,
at him?

Who are you?

Who am I?

We left it empty…

It's gone.

Our dream.

Cut my throat,
let it bleed my screams.
Gurgle the unrelenting,
patience of myself.
Slash the wrist of the empathic,
let the burden flow.
Lend the ears silent,
to selfish voices.
Shatter the heart,
of the half empty.  
Release me from who,
I am.