I haven't Been able to write lately, quite like I once did
I began to show you my real self, and to your room you ran and you hid
I heard what you were once called, the words you spoke left me appalled
So I thought of a new name, the queen of the leaves, and on the edge of your kingdom,
The peasants stop, and they stare
At the golden crown, woven into your
Hair
You sell them on tradition,
They all leave with a smile
And they say "thank you queen, oh thank you queen, I can see why your garden always stays green"

A wise wizard approached you one day with a confession
He proclaimed he saw you in a lavender induced dream, and it was so wonderful that when we awoke his whole day was already ruined,

You responded in a whisper, please fear not, mister...,I'm sorry but I do not know your name

Her favorite color was Purple.
I know this, because I studied the corners of her eyes.
With bright colored bags
and calm painted skin
it was the most beautiful
thing about her.

In fact her name was
Purple.
Excluding the flawless of me,
reaching toward the stars
showing shine
without jealousy!
We even laughed together
as I so eloquently shoved
the idea of her presence
in the grocery store
aside.
I look back toward her eyes
they are broken and proud.
In motion,
I envied such passion
such simplicity without regret
I scold my illusion...

Seeing life without dark
and holding hands with her tragedy
I look
once more
into
human
eyes
and realize,

that I
now am the ugly one.

Do you dream of going on an adventure?

Do tales of wandering haunt your dreams

While you rest from days monotony?

Do you yearn to roam ‘neath strange star beams?
As a child, did you tame dragons fierce

-and with a wooden sword battle trolls?

Or dance with the fairies by the brook

That with the voice of the sea calls.
At dusk, when you grew weary at last,

And the stars came out for their high dance,

Did you wonder what lies behind them

As you left for home in a sleepy trance.
And in your sweet dreams you did venture far-

To the land behind the firefly skies.

There you were cloaked in the dust of your dreams.

And when you woke, you trailed fireflies.

trunks lit by lightning
trees drunk on rain, their roots loose
in saturated earth
rain falls from the canopy
long after the storm moves on

awake when the house goes down
he knows the power is out
drunk on sorrow
reddened eyes aching
naked and powerless
he pulls on yesterday’s clothes

air still thick with words
he finds a box of matches
dusty jugs of water
lights the gas burner
from dim memory retrieves
her wooden coffee grinder

grinding coffee gears him
to an old slow rhythm
his heart caught off guard
turning backwards in time
the scent of her grows
with every turn of the crank

a man with a steaming mug
in a pool of pale morning light
he wills himself into a world
familiar and dangerous
stares in silence at a small knot of life
green frog on rusty leaf

hauling himself up the road
away from the wreckage
he nods to neighbors
not yet trusting speech
hears what they’ve heard
anybody’s guess how long