“Moby ****,”  Herman Melville

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~for the lost at sea~

after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining

the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls

sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality

I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming

god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion,  nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties

my in-camera brain  eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles

walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?

puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others

perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered

Memorial Day 2018

He said that blank pages are the hardest to fill,I was silent

He said that I’m different, I was silent

The reason for my silence? Everything

What I wanted, what I felt

What I needed, what I lacked and what I had

My hopes were sky high, unreachable high

My dreams were great, far beyond his understanding

My achievements were still few, fewer than what he felt

Yet all was fine, or so he thought

I thought about it, I analysed it

I examined myself about it,tried to be honest about it

I then realized that what he felt was blank

And what I felt was blank

His kind of blank?

That which was the hardest to fill due to lack of it

My kind of blank?

Something I’m still unaware of

Poetry or death
Its a tough job but someone
'S gotta do it

You know
I have actually
always thought
You were very beautiful.

The only difference
Between then and now
Is when you look
In the mirror
You see
What I see.

I can't tell you
How awesome it is
To see the light that once
Only hid in your eyes,
Come out and shower us
With the defiance
Of who you wish
To be.

Who you have
Become.

you are an inspiration and beautiful

Your friend,

Johnny

when you are around
I feel endless
Like memory
Cascading from
The mouth
Of love.

The thought of you
Is like the fire
You sleep next to
On the cold and lonely nights
When the only thing between
You and oblivion
Are the very stars
That invited you there
In the first place.
you are the echo
Of everything.
You
 are the inescapable mirror
That I have somehow
NEVER been afraid to gaze in.