I hugged you
the other night
in my drugged up sleep;
I’d forgotten

until the day wore on
and the drug hangover
settled down
to a dreary hum.

You were not
the young kid you,
but older, mature,
sitting in an armchair,

in one of your
work shirts
open necked
without tie;

and we hugged
as if I knew
in the dream
you were dead,

but it didn't
enter the head;
no words were said.
I wish I could dream

that hug every night,
hold you tighter
as each night
came around,

silent like old movies,
father and son,
living and dead,
in the dream

inside my head.
I don't usually
remember dreams
in my drugged up sleep;

they're just a blur
of nothingness
until the dawn
pushes through

my lids to wake
to a dull day;
but that night
I dreamt I hugged you,

my son,
just us,
alone,
one to one.

There is a pressure just behind my ribs
That crushes me, yet I cannot shake it
Unmovable. Untouchable. Incurable.
On my lungs and heart, the weight of it sits.

What does this pressure pull me to?
Why does it threaten me with death?
Unknown. Uncharted. Insatiable.
It will not move until I've taken my last breath.

This is what it is to yearn
What it is to grasp with the soul.
This is what it is to burn
To ignite as desperation takes hold.

I crave this thing I don't know
It pulls at me day and night
Like an addiction, I need it frequently
Lest the anxiety, the panic, should strike.

But it is not a thing, it is a person, in plural
So very far outside my league, urban versus rural
This is not even remotely healthy, but I can't turn
From day to night, from sun to moon, I yearn.

~

Simple short phrases


Taken from the grayest clouds,
charcoal mist collecting my thoughts
Entwining my heart with pointed sorrow
as my stupidity takes center stage to a sold out show

Weakened at the knees, dis-jointed disappointments,
assumptions falter my eyes
Blinded by the sight of one more
licking the seasoned wounds of past regrets

Channeling frustrations with a remote, the mute button not working
Shoe fittings find my mouth, at least in silent words
Crying inside and outside too,
rivers of lost dreams stored in a mason jar…its lid rusted shut

Wrenching my fingers, twisted knots,
lacing fears that are merely a mirage
yet still flourish in desert dreamscapes fluctuating
as camels drink from my oasis on Wednesdays

Then, as if a window opens, words are heard

simple short phrases
tiny syllables counted
in Senryu fashion

and in an instant my heart spins in circular motions
A smile of winged happiness adorns my face,
sun pours through and zephyrs unfurl their sweet aromas,
dancing from flower to flower…to my heart

It is amazing how words can effect us
and all it takes is a whisper of affection, a declaration of caring
from you to me,
to make this moment, this day, this world…the perfect place