his careful face
turned to the sky
pleading the waking of winter
his summer burned eye seeking
the solace of cold
but he only finds
the ribbon of pavement
stretched out before him
from his steel shod foot
to the limits of imagination
like some dazzling promise of tomorrow
every day he snuck quietly
to the hallway of open air
where the sunlight filtered down
thru the broken overhead leaves
and fell on the fertile soil
he turned his head and let the sun soak into his soul
feeling its warmth with his heart
feeling the freedom it implies with every yearning fiber of his being
for that sunshine speaks to him of open road
of no boundaries and no lies
lifts his chained hands in silent supplication
lifts his ensnared heart in silent prayer
release me from this place
free me from this fate
but the sun drifts forward on its silent mission
moves through its daily tale
without pause or ponder
and soon slips to the edge of the great open airs vaulted ceiling
its life giving rays slip to the edge and without a word slip away
he watches them go with a tear
this creature of darkness
he pleads the waking of winter
that will blanket the world in snow
to be renewed come spring
perhaps then he will be renewed also

as daylights shine wears thin
and evening is leaning on you heavy
like the engine of time has
forgotten to grease its wheel
your futility fueled smile has lost ground
in the struggle with the grin
of the man wearing a clown suit
he is a rainbow of laughs
he is the face behind the face that
you look into with approaching dread

the obvious winds of encroaching rain
tread briskly past my quiet ear
a motorcycle engine winds up its gears
in the summer like distance
like an echo in this autumn brink of evening
pretence of the storm
a few scattered cool drops of water
fall casual to the hard red surface of the patio
its faded and tattered paint beset with taint
here once sat a small brick wall
its remains scattered amongst the litter
in the overgrown weeds
as the rain begins in earnest
she leads me inside the house
and to a bedroom not used by shooters
the two of us sit in silence and listen to the passing storm
a woman without a word enters and
gathers herself in a corner

outside the window
sunlight creeps back over the world
reveals the man with the clown suit
sitting waiting for you outside the window
he had waited all his life
and he waits still
in his comfort chair
its worn plastic form strains but holds
his heavy thoughts
as the world passes in two's or threes
all the laughing faces
and the desperate lookers eyeing the safe harbour
he had waited all his life
inspite of the noise and garbage
he sits here and plays with the firebox
its heat keeps him from getting
a frozen heart

the three of us
leave the shooters house
making roads for the soothsayers den
only she can settle our earthly delemia
me, her and the clown
full on night gathers around our swift feet
the lights of the carnival
reflected in the puddles left by the last rain
the already stale the water is disturbed by our passing
the air smelled like cotton candy
and is full of noise
the soothsayer is mute
her lips sealed with beeswax
because she is mourning her camera
cause the camera was once her ticket out of town
it was gonna be a one way nonstop to hollywood
but it ended up being hollyweird and it wasn't in california
the four of us head for the interstate
if you cant solve it
run

the wood floor a sea
of contradictions
wake there with a disassembled
sense of last night
the fragments of a womans kiss
lay there pink lipstick clinging to its vestiges
shards of a rain swept street
and the quiet of a november thunderstorm
pools of darkness uninterrupted by the wind
pieces of a man laughing without humor
this wood floor holds the key
but to discover truth in the
littered expanse of bottles
benith the layers of dust lain down
by the years
the wood floor becomes a trap
a puzzle prison
the mind grapples with