It's a dream childhood
taking the ten fifteen autumn ferry
for school on the other side of the river
little white butterflies
petite pretty ribboned
babbling like river ripples
boarding from the jetty in the sky
traveling below billowing September clouds
living only in now breathing joyous
no worry for a future
ferrying along the river
and now is all that counts
counting by the moments
fairy furlongs
on the ten fifteen autumn ferry.

It's funny how you're my sun,
Warming my soul on the coldest of days
When the piercing stilettos of winter
Penetrate my body.
Yet on other days you burn my skin
Like a million untamed sparks
Lunging at the hand of the man
Who feeds the flames
Because he doesn't want to see them die.

One day while ******* beer from the curb into the street
you were hit by a Toyota. Split your forehead like
a cleaved melon.  You are officially a gimp;
your left eyeball wanders & you live in
June of 1986 & talk to the radio.
Hope this is read to you,
your friends wept
years back.

I write sometimes
Of the monster I've become
And there
in the highway of pages
I find comfort
In counting mile markers
Each marking how far I fall
Setting sail for denial
Fill my sails with a liar's breath..
In the morning when I wake,
I'll rub a blind man's sleep from my eyes
Reciting a hypocrite's creed
Believing it..

Doesn't seem to matter
Where this road leads
And we believe in angels
But With shadows we plead
To flip the switch
Turn off the guilt
Our feet smell of beer
And our hair of cigarettes
They don't judge us
But we judge ourselves
For treading the beaten path
And even the sky fills with ash
Blocking out the angels
They all thought we were
Somewhere in there
I still yearn for purity