Still life may be silent, may be violent,
May be a green sight, may be a street light,
May be the nature's scent, or maybe it's cement,
May be moving, or maybe it's never evolving,
May be repeating, may be remaining,
Or maybe what's still is just an idyll
And life is not meant to feel,
Just to fill, fill, fill...
Until life's still.

Drifting back to the ocean
like it never even happened
unraveled dreams washed clean
crystalline renaissance bestowed    
by wind mountain spring waters
rising from the heart
of mother earth

A remnant light glows deeply
of one love's untamed wonders
an unfastened feather glides abandoned
rushing waters floating
alighting pilgrim blissfully sails on
stranded without wings
a fallen wild feather free as bird
wanting a place to be let free

Sun in the summer air
wind in buoyant feathered hair
softly dancing upon
wild river restless ripples
to feel the love of holding on
adrift asunder whence it touched on
destiny's far-reaching
journey yonder
holding onto flowing rivers
rolling towards the sea

The incoming tidal waters blossom
surge to greet wind river's gentle saunter
converging slackening passage
salt on feral feathered fragments
arousing currents babbling swirl
imbibed by the impassioned sea

Wild rivers' born intentions
a different kind of drifting passage
to kiss the distant horizon
where the sown sunlight settles
submerged in shoreless ocean waters
    to be free all at sea at last


someone you used to know  2017

I'm making a nice scrapbook of my decisions,
My feelings, my hopes, my personal life.
I'm still on the first page.

Sunflowers do not bend toward the Sun; they genuflect
Which is exactly right for morning prayers
They have waited in place throughout the night
For His morning, and true enough, He comes

And through the day His liturgies of Light
Illuminating the letters and margins of life
With all the ornaments of Creation
Delight each flower in its work and play

Ordering all endeavors to great effect -
Sunflowers do not bend toward the Sun; they genuflect

My mind can not express my amazement of your beauty, the way you break me down to my simplest parts and make me new with feelings of love. The small magical minutes in between memories I once only thought old books and dreams were made of

She was flawed, completely; but not in the way she thought.

She was flawed in the way an artist ruins a white canvas with a beautifully colored sunset.

she was damaged, in the way the night sky is broken by the dawn

I met this girl with beautiful eyes, which were constantly looking somewhere behind me. Probably she was imagining herself a better me, a me of tomorrow. So, I decided to stay overnight in this town, just in case.

winter's brush
could not blend
the prints left
by your face

at the first
dew of spring
you renewed
dried up roots

with the last
summertime
you were near
as the sun

as I fall
for the ruse
my heart waits
under leaves

in the dark
now I see
that you've gone
til next year