Love is the sound
of your door closing
as I leave for the last time.

All too often we mourn
the fact that the fire's burned out,
but I WON'T think of the embers!
I'll remember the blaze burning brightly-
-those nights that you dressed in moonlight
those morning that you were there,
soft and gentle, still dreaming.

And it was in April,
that she first arrived
with the bloom of flowers, and the scent of rain.

I was never sure from whence she came;
some high rise, or maybe from Spring herself,
but I knew,
from the first moment she grasped my hand
that she was so many things that I didn't realize
my soul thirsted for.

I knew then, that she would be worth the
heart break,
and that in those shattered moments
I would love her still.

She was the finest of vintages,
and of her love, I drank deeply-
-knowing that my drunkenness
would be worth any hangover,
for a sweeter wine
I have not tasted.

Some women belong to the Spring.
They're meant to bloom,
but they were never yours to keep.

I’ve seen many fall
Watched even more
Rise to the occasion
Tackling oxygen deficiency
Then fall to the gusts
There are those
That died standing
Never a limb breaking
The surviving corpse
Of an era no longer in observation
Limbs still reaching
Clinging onto the faint hope
It’ll see the day
The children stop climbing
And start flying

5’11” tall
2’6” wide
I’m a pillar of nothing
A faceless headstone
Moving around
Scouring the earth
For my final resting place
My grave lost
A hollow tomb
Unmarked
Waiting to be inscribed
With all the horrors of my misdeeds
The only good thing
To follow my soul
Will be the worms and grubs
As they hollow out my eyelids

Oceans of green
Only making waves
When the wind blows
Leaps of faith
As crickets jump at opportunities
Bullfrogs moaning for attention
Oaks stretching up and out
Touching their toes
As time puts another ring on
Imagination making shapes
Out of cotton-ball pillows
The world around me
Quiet and quaint
As long as I’m alone
Without the bickering voices
Of politicians and dramatics
Peace is never too far out of reach
It’s just a few steps past the wood line
Where man has yet to travel

My ancient blood boils
As wood pops
Embers sizzle
New fuel added
Burned pieces fall
I can witness lives
Be engulfed
As the flames build
Growing taller into the sky
Mixing smoke and clouds
Summoning my inner demons
To dance on fires tongue
The grey snow falling
Cascading blessings
My ancestors bestow
Strength to continue forward
Peace on withered cliffs
Fear to motivate progress
Sanity with every pass
Of the peace pipe
As the flames build
My woes become ash
My dreams embers
Waiting for the fuel
Of my own approval

of soil and water

of dirt and cries of sky

musty aroma

packing the nostrils

translucent blobs

stutter on glass

disintegrate against ground

wave of pewter puffs

and that echo again

like a million falling *****

in an vacant room