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

This here is my home,
metal sides of cold.
Death drips,
from the roof and mold.

This here is my home,
I run away far with my car.
To find myself parked,
staring through the dark.

This here is my home,
the walls mutter judgement,
charred with abandonment.

This here is my home,
It's gone now,
Burnt to the ground.

This here was my home.

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.

If I gave you my soul,
would you read each page?
Scribble notes of interest
and know me.
Would you take the time,
to help tape the seams?
Would you mend,
the fragility of my soul?
It tears and rips,
easily, emotionally.

To those who ache,
rusted by love.
Breathe.

When you are standing,
shinny and new.
Breathe.

When you are ready,
scramble the sharp rocks.
And Breathe.

When you find yourself,
Tell yourself to,
breathe.

Find the breathe of you,
and keep breathing.

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

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

From straw the color gold
her hair feeding the west wind
she laughs my true love

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.

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

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.

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”

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.

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.

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

Sun ached to rise,
above the jagged horizon.
It lit the shadow,
of stone work,
of your craftsmanship.
It stood high,
strong and everlasting.
A stone giant,
held together with assumption.
Assumption of him,
the prince that you seek.
Recently one has followed,
to the top where you lie.
He said the verse,
a promise, an assumption.
He would mend the holes,
patch the sides.
As time rhythmically passes,
the tower would stand,
strong and eager.
Until your assumption,
is not yet reality.
The one that followed,
sometime ago,
has left with the moon.
As your eye tears,
the tower leans,
crumbles.
The salty liquid,
corrodes your assumption,
that is often set in stone.
I watch from afar,
knowing the outcome.
I tread among the emotion,
overflowing and scattered around.
As your kin, your brother,
I help to pick up the pieces.

I was drunk once.
Drunk on love,
drunk on lust.

I was drunk,
warm and full.

You were sober,
cold and empty.

On this day,
of 35 years.
Humbled by,
the cycle of death.
I place my foot,
on sodden wood.
Embracing,
the November wind.
It's cruel and nips,
at my blue fingertips.
There is something,
new and also blue.
That pushed me out,
into the deep cold sleep.

Your eyes.

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

City lights banter,
with the night.
We walk,
like water and,
with things unseen.
Step with tranquility,
alone with serenity.

Push.
Pull.
******.
Bend.
Hit.
Slap.
Tweak.
Touch.
Turn.
Feel.
Slide.
Press.
Stroke.
Hold.
Twist.

It's ok…ah.
You know just what,
I like.

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

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.

Let’s get this straight.
I could write this,
using visual metaphors.
As architects build,
or painters paint.
Instead, my blood boils,
with oil and **** at the thought.  

Poems are a release,
for the empathic.  
I could tell you,
nothing is something.
How there is always,
light in darkness.
But, most importantly,
love is cruel.

I could look to,
Emily or Li-Young.
Study the beautiful words
and the mastery of pen.
I protest and reject this,
I will break my rhythm.
Then I will cry,
self-doubt and blood.

You see the word emotion,
is the world to me.
Absorbing as a typhoon does,
all the good and bad.
I could proclaim,
that this is a gift.
To me it is torture.

Even as I write this,
it fills my glass.
Hot magma rises,
boiling to the top.
It will ******* spill over.
I want it to.
The release will feel empty.
Vacant.

There is nothing more,
I could say or jot.
Scribble my protest,
to the heavens.
Why do I feel?
How do I feel?
Why do I feel this much?

Our glass is full,
it spilled over last year.
Your ropes tied to me,
were cut, so I fall.

In morning, we meet,
But it will different kind.
You will hold the suitcase,
I will hold an empty cup.

Why couldn’t we last the year,
we were breaking at the britches.
You packed your suitcase,
for red rocks and a better life.

I tried to mend the seams.
I tried to fix the table leg.
But my love you’ve wrecked it all.
It wasn’t balanced,
I needed your needle, your strength.

I tried to tell you,
it was about to burst, spill.
I tried to be patient,
and wait.
We pretended.

Who the hell was I?
Who are you?
I loved you.
Our glass is full,
let it fall.
Wash our hands of this.

In morning, we meet,
But it will different kind.
You will hold the suitcase,
I will give you the empty cup.

Fill it with what you need.
Fill it with the love you find.
Fill it with memories.
I will be here,
far behind.

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”

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”

You pushed me,
off course.
Gray fog resentment,
clouds the stars.
Remote and far,
in my own mind sea.
As distant as summer,
in autumns eyes.
I’ve sailed far,
so far I can no longer,
remember your face.

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.

Snow falls before us.
Through her eyes,
the sky collapses.

It tumbles gently.
Laying softly,
as lovers hands.

They are still as white.
Slightly covered,
by ivory silk.

Snow still falls.
A blanket of calm,
weaves through.

Let it keep snowing.
A tranquil scene,
as her eyes closed.

Let it keep snowing.

Dancing silently
In timber of white veneer
There she pirouettes

Dark is what he sees…
What he feels…

Dark is the sea
black

His heart is the dam
Built with decayed wood

Release the pressure
Let the cold black flow

He whispers:
“let it flow”

The only beacon
A withered light house

The glow is the path
Guiding his frail frame

Yet it fades
With every splash

He whispers:
“let it flow”

limbs kick and scream
toward the gleam

they stop
and give in

his body begins to blend with black
the cold stains his skin

the feeling flows like ink
dripping off every digit  

He whispers:
“let it flow”

his eyes wide and strange
the realization of end

gulps his last sip of air
and his body slumbers into black

the dam breaks
the black flows

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

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

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

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

do you remember?
Your young mind

innocent and sweet
no room for brood thoughts

do you remember?
the way the grass felt

how the sun glazed your skin
on a warm summer day

do you remember?
the laughter

and how it danced through the air
like fire flies at night

do you remember?
the simple gesture

of a smile from your kin
which, gave you such warmth

can you remember?
or have you forgotten

has society locked it away
their judgement is crippling

why have you forgotten?
what keeps this at bay?

the everyday social pillars
molds you this way

it is not easy to unlock
and grasps the conception

your young mind
is waiting

it is waiting
to tutor you
in finding your self
and unlock the beauty

so can you remember?
what will it take...?

to live each day
in this way

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

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

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”

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.

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

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

The mist is heavy now
Thick and moist
As sodden newspaper

It covers the range
Which, I clamber each day

Cloaking the way
It’s gray keeps me from straying

Following that beaten path
In endless ritual

Past the stone and wood structures
And past the nook that smells rustic

The mist is heavy
And I’ve noticed, how thick

For me to ascend to the crest
Where light warms the peak

I must wave through the gray
The unknown

I must calculate the cliffs
While I follow the gold

Ascend I must
Brave through the mist
Choose that path

It will define, you and me
Reach and hold
The palm of virtue
And I’ll hold yours  

Come with me
Let’s climb through
The mist
Let’s claim our crown

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

I come to despise you
this word, this label

even though, it was muttered
first from my own lips

its sound sings the memories
that hunt my every step

I still remember...
they follow me like shadows

demons mimicking my silhouette
they infect my mind

with each syllable
rehearsed by your lips

you practiced
and twitched in glee by its sound

this word is common
it is used, everyday

its very meaning
is honor and loyalty

every rising sun
a new man will inherit this word

that day, in a brisk, painted landscape
I was brought into this world

and you inherited this word
like a knight swearing by the sword

you inherited me
your kin

I still remember...
they slip into my mind

like a vivid film
glimpse after glimpse

my reel shows me
what this word really meant

it echos a deep nothing
that is left within

the void never filled
it was there for you

this word can not be
sealed with just blood

it is word based on action
without selfishness

it is earned
and felt

yet it was branded to you
for me to say

and forever this word
will be my first

a word that's empty
to me

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

Out here it is organic
All natural, but fake

This is just a shell
5 parts this, one part you
precise, measured and able

yes that single part
potent and true
which can not be seen
but, only spoken
through honest lips

here is where you are
locked away
wrapped in chain
Behind the flesh and blood

You can feel it, can’t you?

yes this husk
is exquisite
its curves memorizing

it attracts
the buzzing flies
that fester lust

but, yet molded
by towering monopolies

injecting social narcotics
into the minds of society

No, this not...
you...

peel away the physical
fraud that is your cloak

reveal thy self
to me, to the world

lets gaze upon them

from our inner eyes
let them see the glow
and the spectrum of desire
that you only speak of
alone...

let them feel
the truth of thorns
pricking the outer shell

mutter the wants, the needs
that have yet to be poisoned
by societies posted order

let them smell blood
of the free and tangible

yes, reveal thy self
let them gaze, smell, hear and feel

you...

Selfish are we,
as they breathe death.
Creeps undetected,
its gluttony is relentless.

Infected by narcissus,
obsessed with “want”.
Devoured and exhausted,
we perish when exposed.

Divided by masks,
one selfless,
the other selfish.
It's your choice.

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