the waters edge under the midnights star
she walks slow where the waters overflow the sea
barefoot in the salt waters and sands
carrying her sandals and wide dreams
you can feel them walking there by her side
a soft magic that holds
she talks to me in such voice to lend me to the dream
and i give myself to it free

i am the candle flickering in her window
i am the chair that she curls up in
wrapping herself against the winters chill
and i keep her warm and safe
i keep the hours that she waits here
like a fine dream
thistles and snow
so long ago

she walks slow on the edge of the sea
as day kisses night
barefoot in the soft sands
caressed by the warm sea
like a song for the heart
like a forever more
thistles and snow so long ago

this treasured moment
while lover plays with locke of hair
and talks quiet of the day
her smiling voice plays along the
verges of my mind
like a butterfly soaring
on the fading light of the failing sun
her romantic tones
and fingers wandering playful
as treasured moments becomes one
with such tender notions in my lovers hand
she sits with me while i make dinner
laughs with me from her glass of chardonnay
this quiet time between two lovers
living such a normal day

there's an echo following me down main street
it sounds like her laugh but who can
be  sure in this rain
we walked all night
these treasured moments between lovers
and at first light standing in the field
we could see the rusted wrecks
of all thouse who have walked this way before us
all thouse who had given into the night
but not us
her hand kept me afloat
her  sweet words kept me alive
when the waters had swept away all reason
when thoughts divulged like secrets in the night
between two lovers that never shall part

as i dance to the mornings sunshine
she is the song that plays in my head
just like she allways has been
shes there in so many ways
shes the stars that are the roof to my dreams
shes the bed i keep my dreams in
she the harvest of the bluejay at first light
twin suns rise
one in the sky
the other is my lovers heart
burns bright and hot
for me

thief of my calm
this ******* liar loneliness
crawls around this cluttered room
casting pieces of desperation at my heart
and fragments of memory's at my head
thief of my night
it steals away under the bed
waiting for me to try vainly to sleep
while i toss and turn the thief
will come out and haunt me
with thoughts of long lost lovers
with memory's of happier days
the theifs hunger is insatiable
his appetite for the creating of dark souls knows no mercy
i fling my eyes wide and clean the room
trying to leave him no safe place to set shadows
but as i fall exhausted to the chair
the thief's hand slips from underneath and
spills the scent of her perfume to my senses
and i can almost feel her soft skin against my cheek
i cannot bear it
she is gone
and i am left here with
this monster loneliness
this hated vile creature sadness
leave me be
i beg of you

the day is ripe with intentions
both planned and spur
but none come to fruition
on the expanding branches of todays sorted
and troublesome thoughts
no answer is a good answer


i lay back in the faulty wire of malfunction
am i just grasping words here
random from the meaning....disturbing
but there is the crux of the problem

static thoughts erratic along the edge of mind
where when what...the normal fare
but the images
crisp clean
a man in a feild...his hair is on fire...he is laughing
a tower in a snowstorm...a single light burns on it...it is desolate

images and the flow
of them along the page
showing the words
rather than speaking them
folly i tell you...folly

the day grows long
and i ahve things to do
i will not do them

her opulent presence
is beautifully crafted on the night of the mind
her tattooed form elegantly painted sensitively
but oh so erotically
lip rings and candy necklace feast for the lusts
but she knows your eyes are on the plunging neckline
she is a deeply written romance novella
she is a poem of darker daylight
longing within her good girl image
to be as bad as bad girl can be
beautifully written in that smile
written in the sunshine of the opulent soul

in the wilderness
i sketch in the thick air with my words
painting grand towers and epic people riding against
the forever setting sun
grand lives with natural loves like sweet roses
loves so deep and true that they defy time itself
wondrous lives like fabled stories
ever dreamt never lived
lives that such willful and swift hearts dream of
that such timid dreamers may seek and find
only in fragment
only in hearts wish

but i wonder
should such be spoken
like treasured gift swimming in the golden rivers
of sunlight hill
such people cannot exist
such lives cannot be truly lived

so should words so diligently woven true to meaning
be spoken with such bravado
so like a drunkard bellowing in mystical theaters
so like a fool speaking so loudly of things he cannot conceive
so i must set aside my pen
and cease its speaking
for my heart breaks
for the lives i will never live

tidal pool of light
gathers round my feet as day evaporates
without sound it echoes in my minds eye
a thousand years breathed in a single moment
the weight of worlds falling within
the graceful collapse of a single feather touching
like tender kiss tumbling lost
like me
to the same battered wood floor
she once laid in such divine supplicant pose
bare to the golden light as i am now
and for a fleeting moment i share imagined space with
her presence
i can feel thunderstruck awe of her casual passing through this place
she
she
but as the tidal pool of days end dries
to the inky darkness
and the moment of perceived shared destiny's fades
i gather one last kiss to her soft hand
one last fare thee well
for one so loved and yet so lost
left behind all delusion
that i could deny you anything you desired
i forgive you for being the object of my affections
i forgive you for being the crux of my self illusion
i forgive you for being the thousand years i breathed in that moment
i say goodnight
because you are...
i kiss you goodnight
because you once were the...
tidal pool of golden warm light now gone

the second time i found her
it was in the midst of the grand staircase
she sat at the far edge overlooking the ballroom below
where many a face spun in wild dance
where many hearts fluttered on the verge of dreams

she cupped a single rose in her painted hand
its petals were cracked and dusty
and its scent had hints of rain
but she clutched it to her warm heart like adoration
saying softly that if she held it for long enough she could
give it life once again
i knew this to be true
but i feared the cost to her visionary soul
would it blind her to the tigers among the lillies in the ballroom
are we all not blind to the tragedy of happenstance

so i swept her up and rode into the night
to the shallow waters of the coast
where the salt of the sea could wash away the rose
cleanse the mortal wound that is such loves
but it was made of thicker smoke than that
and still you could smell a taste of rain on its dusty blue petals

i built a forest house that fall
and there i sat her to recuperate
but she only wanted to once again dance in the ballroom
with the faces of grandeur and the voices of naughty leasuire
'only a friend can debate you this tale'
is how i defended keeping her from that fate
once again we strove to gather words from the skies
as they fell like leaves abandoning their trees

once again she left in the spring
promising this time to take great cares with her pen and heart
i gave her a tender friends smile of my own as she had once done for me
and after she had faded down the summer road
i made my own way to the ballroom
because in secret i too longed to be lost in the swirling joys
the abandon of faces and names
of tigers dancing in the field of lillies
in a ballroom of trees

the long moment holding her gaze in mine
and the oceans of worlds that passed between us
in just that timeless time
i lay down with her softness next to me
and spent the dark night
with the gentle dove of her heart
the quiet song of her lips
i spent years there in just that timeless time
the hours we spent laughing walking running
in summer meadows and country wood
hand in warm soft hand
for such a dream of timeless time
twenty years on she comes visits me
in my dreams
and i love her once again
for such a sweet timeless time
until the day i close my eyes forever
and i find her again

time moving....
twist the words into meanings
unkempt and strange
or simple and pure
twist them till you see yourself in them
then speak them clear and loud
speak in tongues if that spins your lily's
but make sure your heard
its not weak to be silent
but it takes strength to speak
to make yourself heard above the crowd
to get your point made
time is moving....
speak your hearts greatest dreams
speak the softest moment you once shared with a lover
there is such beauty in every heart
there is such beauty in every life
you only have to find it
in moments of compassion for the down trodden
in helping hand given to strangers
in the gift of a smile
like she gave me
time is moving...
but my time to write this poem has expired

beheld by the timid heart with hopeful intent
any life seems both bold and beautiful
seems to be the essence of perfection
desirable and meant to be bound up with true loves gifts
but such dreams are fleeting and swiftly abandon the dreamer
leaving the coarse and the cold reality's behind
but there is the crux of it
can the dream survive the dreamer waking
can the dream stand strong in the walking worlds light of day
when i held her as that dreamer i knew her
when i awoke her beauty still filled me
when i awoke my love for her overflowed my heart
such dreams heal our souls
such dreams give life meaning
i beheld with my timid heart a beautiful dream
and when i awoke that dream was alive
and kissed me
now my heart is bold
now i live

it was hot
makes you feel spent just breathin'
but she was comfortable as judas in hades
just like ice cool in the shade
you shout and dance about with all this jealousy
you are electric hot under the collar
but the winds are blowing in her favor
but the rivers are sweet on her lips
it was hot as death warmed over
not an ounce of inked shade to be had
and you got issues hounding your thoughts
beginning to feel like its a church to the
apostle's of rage
darken your horizons with her
like the universe is her little game
the wind walks its ignorant gesture across you
and that just fans the flames
after all she just acknowledged her divinity
its hot enough to cook my head
but you are wrapped tighter than a prisoner
all used up and jealous
key to surviving this day lay in her eyes
in them you see your forgiven soul
in them you see your salvation's way
if you can forgive yourself first
if you can grow that fast

he rides his bicycle in the the
torrential rain
plowing a froth quick and fierce
through the rivers created

the cycle once bright orange
has patches of rust the size
of cantaloupe
and has a blue hoodie wrapped
round the seat which smells musty

you can feel him panting
bathed in sweat
as each hill retains more and more of
his hard earned pace
but mother nature is kind to her
strangest son
and every hill has a
fly by the seat of your pants
whoop whoop laughing
breeze in you hair bugs in your teeth
downhill

shift to vision miles distant from
that smile
the cycle lay in the weeds by the river
broken
the night obscures
the riderless iron steed
its form twisted
it has expressions of pain in appearance
that paint cannot contain
pain for its own lost
freedom of the road
but pain for its rider

the years count on and on
from that downhill smile moment
that lives on in the heart

the shuffling men huddle
in the lighted room
eyes glue to shoes
the miles a man treads
are the measure of his soul
and these worn feet are
men to move mountains
with bare hands

tinge the conversation
with the propaganda of innocence
priesthood of crafted reality
puts good and true men prostrate to the
graven images of a better world
when all that is accomplished is the slow decay
rotting fruit of our collective wishes
our collective hopes

a man on fire
his hand to the road
that i must travel
like a cool drop of rain in the blast furnace heat
like a woman's smile after years of being alone
like the taste of real hope
after the road has come here
this strange strange place
at the end of the world

one hundred and ten men
in this dark hall
waiting for the storm to let
waiting for the sun
waiting for a better world

one man waits
in the rain
surreal in his mind the day has evaporated
and as the shadows of night crawl into his eye
he dreams aloud that she has come home to him
that things never went astray
that we could be our happy little family again

her smile
and tortoise shell glasses
her picture perfect
delicious curves scented by parisian roses
she steps neatly into the bustling room
and with just a hint of a smile
she stops the room cold in it tracks
as all heads turn
and i must stop and smile to myself
even the other girls desire to be in her arms
even they dream for a moment
of dancing in bed tonight
she leans down and places a tender kiss on my cheek
and the room slowly drifts back to its own dreams
she a tender perfection worshipful and giving joys
she sits with me and
her tight jeans are soft and warm under my hand
and i find myself fascinated by
how she fills up my senses in a moment
i make love to her essence on the air
and passionately tenderly kiss her presence so near
to me that it sets me afire
she takes me
as i take her

synopsis of trajectory type tragedy
the day after the dreaded day
and the meals limp leftovers now
stuffed into the bulging fridge
our new neighbour taps at the door with a
synopsis of trajectory type tragedy
she spills her daily story with soft sounds
all over the living room glass table
and plays with its entrails
while trying with halfhearted desperation
to pry certain monies from certain people
without being too specific cause then that'd be rude or something
her projectile vocal charade slowly subsides
into a vapour trail of trying to get her get well
out of the spare change the sing flier has left behind on
the last beer run of the night next door
he is passed acknowledging himself
her feet ignite the carpet
when the bag achieved is glory in her ***** pocket
she cooks her dinner in a spoon
and the night is
spent chasing the fluff across the spaces in her mind
and deep in bathroom mirrors
fascinated by the focus
and delicate operations it takes to get
the place into what it shouldn't be
she falls asleep with her hand in some old mans pocket
as the sun creeps over the lost horizon
she admits in a whisper
that we have become the lost children
that we have become shadows of what we once thought so grand
filthy clothes replace
the latest threads from the fashion house
and the newest thoughts are fresh off the press too
the defend the empire of the needy
and require the few to to fend for the many
but the reality is
we live hand to mouth
day to day
desperation is measured in moments
that you cannot answer the tears in her eyes
she rattles around the kitchen
making me coffee
and two eggs over easy
but her own breakfast she cooks in a spoon
the projectile tragedy was the last
thing i wanted to relive
but here she is on my living room carpet
my ex chatting with my current
and im in the other room
holding
out hope that someday you will cease
this and come home to stay
the candlelight denied its own shadows
it moved with the wind but resisted change
it was a late fall evening
and the wind had grown cold
with winters first touches
and there in the only light
she showed me her face full of trackless tears
and the troubled things that lay within her mind
the choice of changing words
never spoken clear never spoken quick
but the story they gave me was
a dark tale flowing from her past
the places she had been in the years
and how she was
hoping to come home at last

transient light begins to fade from the winter sky
i reach up with all my strength
but i cannot hold back the failing daylight
cannot cease its awkward stumbling into night
but as its last vestiges slip away a song comes to my heart
its words inked in my very soul
all the joys and true beauty of togetherness shared
that all of these loves iv know and nurtured
have not been in vain
that as i stand alone in the gathering shadows
i will never really be alone
for there are hearts out there who still cherish me
i am not forgotten
a rich tapestry of images my heart brings back to me
the smiling faces of the people in my world who have shared
warmth and love with me
are with me always, forever
tonight i may sail a dark sea
but i am anchored in the safe haven of another's heart's dream
so as the transient light fades from the sky
i have no fear
i have only love

revisit the lonely girl now in your mind
her alabaster face just a vehicle for those lovely aftermath eyes
her lips painted delicately like danger
she moaned a few wary words into my weary head
that i should fear for her fragile heart's dream
there are tears in unseen places of her innocent soul
that i should tread with angelic care in the gardens of her desperation
where she is tangled with unease and misgiving
she is lonely

visit your image of the lonely girl 
revisit her in her darkest hour
comfort her with your kindest words
she moaned a few wary words into my weary head
her forgiven lover an apparition of her yesterdays
but still carries her soft wet lips warmth
carries the dire need of her dark desire 
she is a woman of warmth
waiting for spring
waltzing with a winter rain
she is lonely

the days all seem to blend into one
long song of regaling minstrels of mixed temperament
and poets of a different tongue
all she can say to you as she shows you the door
is that she wishes you well
and hopes you enjoyed the ride
cause you know its the right thing to do
and she kisses your cheek
out into the night you shuffle
you wander the carnival of the city streets
and wonder at the creatures of night
who don't need a home to know who they were born to be
who don't need directions to know right from wrong

the passive shadow
retreats across the floor
as the day slips
my gaze rides the rays
out the window to
breathtaking panorama of sky
but after few moments
the skies silent awe evaporates
as day crowds back in

these are days in the length of my years
that i pause to ponder the small ripples
the slight thing that becomes a tidal wave
later in life
sets in like the worn heel
of favored running shoes
its bitter dregs taste sweet in comparison
to the taste of her eyes as she rejected the venture

its a fine gift
like a box of gold
like a treasure of the soul
but it is not real
it is not true
it is simply a feeling of comradeship
a heartfelt desire that things could be different

late afternoon sunlight
through the narrow window
falls on the burnished oak
bringing to life the the beloved scents
of childhood home
my parents library
of books spread through the house
and all that knowledge that once thought was so precious
has turned into a phone that dont ring

the passive shadow
retreats across the floor
as the day slips
my gaze rides the rays
out the window to
breathtaking panorama of sky
but after few moments
the skies silent awe evaporates
as day crowds back in

and i remember that i was once a footloose son
and once danced in the dust of a summer sun
with a girl wearing a rose printed dress
and all seemed so right and true that day
and it was
and it was

these are days in the length of my years
that i pause to ponder the small ripples
the slight thing that becomes a tidal wave
later in life
these days are long gone before they ever came
aint that just like her

the trees give way to large open space
with a road running its center
fields of wild grass and shrub border its sides
above the sky has forgotten the sun
under the swift grey silent river of storm clouds
it will rain any moment
the air is thick with its taste

a mass of small birds suddenly take to wing
moving as one swinging up into the treeline
the silence implied is full of birdsong
and the wood sounds
we walk hand in hand through the grass
to the cracked and **** strewn road
that has not see a soul in years
she stops to pick a wild rose
and we resume walking while she holds it with gentle care
like a kitten she is taking home to feed warm milk

thunder rolls off just to the east
we have crossed the road and plunge back into
wild grass and ****
passing the rusted skeletal frame of some car
engulfed by a small tree
i pitch a rock at the hood and with the rewarding metal retort
press on to the far side of the clearing
the large oaks looming in our path
seem like ancient sentinels guarding the gates to eden
we pause as we reach the treeline
i look back
i will never forget the beauty of this day
with my sweet lover
and this quiet peaceful place

a slow slipping into the dark abyss of thinking
such dark wicked thought twists
on the vines overgrowing the living breathing edge of perception
its hard white metal edge baking in ever present sunlight
like wine i am a drunkard of the softest touch
i am a ***** to the sweetest line
master of none...fool for some
its all a memory a moment after it happened
so why am i so glued to the window paine
staring into the brief bright glitter of passing time
staring into the abyss

her eyes slowly scattered across my form
as her words escaping in rapid succession
splatter the cold tile like breadcrumbs for the miserable beast
the trail of which is lewd in my mind like razors
her reservations slip back into her lips past thick gloss
her dire predictions limp hollow into the
heavy thick humid florida air
laughing like a mad mad woman
like a mad mad man

teeth gritted and hands contorted to the form
of the pill bottle long empty
the headache has returned to her lips
spew itself across the dim room
leaving splashes of hand wrought pain
leaving traces of hand carved memories
her tricycle broken and burning
her doll sitting in darkness
she weeps
i sleep

she pours me a glass of wine
and with overgentle hand caresses my cheek
tells me a tale from her long ago
in a strange voice like smoke
tells me me of a love that chimed like the bells of spring
rang straight and true
like carefully crafted glass slippers on the night dancer
like all the comfortable things that she keeps
in the closet of her heart

pulling out the decorations in dusty celebration
of the summer night years past
with the photographs sad with their smiles
that true love of her girlhood
standing in the dusk holding his hand
and the kiss like a king and his blushing princess bride
she was so nervous she left her shoes on the lake shore

and when he was gone to the distant winter gate
she lingered by the icicle window tracing with
a finger hearts with his name
she laughs with a ghost of a tear
over how silly she had been
her first kiss hadn't been with such fanfares
and flowing silken robes
but with some handsome lad
who is now lost to the vastness of years
but she still has the picture of her in that dress
standing on the lake shore with shoes in hand
while the carnival spun in the background like a drunken man
whos song has given way to his lament

never before let it blossom like
roses in such fairest sunlight
he was a man of wilderness
strong and sure in his way
a creature of knowing and doing
a stranger to this game of light and shadow
of loves falsely promised and tenderness teased
of loves true touch tenderness felt in unison with another soul
a man of the hunt for wild beasts
he sought to ensnare her in traps of logic
but any fool knows there is no logic to the heart
and its romances are all she knew
such is a fiery burning bright and true to the heart romance
such is the knowing a woman's deep hearts desires
he calls out in moonlight her name
and she comes to him
and they share wild hours wrestling
body and soul
this is the true spoken word
there is no life without love
a man of the world now
no man can stand without a woman's hand

the branches silhouette against the sky
spiderweb of leaves and wood
against damp cool air
languages spoken by the world around me
words in tongues of the mysterious night
the dreams that come into focus
are ones that vividly center on moments
never truly lived
conversations that should have been
love made but never shared
the branches silhouette against the night sky
watch slow procession stately and pure
as the web woven by branches and leaves
gives slow silent birth to a tree in dawns
revealing light
so it is with you and I
look at me silhouetted against the
darkness of her words
wait for dawns light to show the truth
you already know