Sparkle sparkle shimmer and flash
the lines of light from leaves never cease
they glimmer and reflect and exude shades of
green I have never seen or could hope to recreate but

The sky the sky yes I see the sky
peeking it’s eye between those flashing leaves
the shades of blue from dawn to dusk
and dusk to dawn and black to blue I
lean back and watch the hues like a
tired father waking and reading his morning
edition but I’ve only seen days subtracted

I’ve never felt one return oh no
where do they go where do they go
I wake up I turn the page I sip my coffee
Where do they go where do they go

My head is stuck at the peaks of youthy rooftops
trapped in moving circles and daggers rotting brain.
I hover, gliding above the generated, empty plane, tracing the moving shadows below and tracking the nights that rain.

i was so careful but the lines oh the ever running lines they vibrate frantically, I cannot look away they dance back and forth between both crests of their prison, their XYZ axes gripping them trapping them within definite images between associations and contexts, between gleaming ascent and its tumbling recoil.

The ride hick-ups and pollutes the clouds
filling my scent and descent pulls at my stomach,
gravity yanks me back, pulling on my rope and
laughing all the while.

At first you fear it but then you are laughing and shouting
and throwing your arms in the air and having the wind rush
into your lungs and whip your hair it is so beautiful it is
unlawful it is unreal i cant be seeing this and it spirals and tumbles and shriekingly grinds to a halt, panting.

Floating days lifted in flight by birdsong,
waiting upon an evaporating cloud
of time and its passing, its trail leaving so soon.

How do I feel on a cloudy day?
Stinging eyes and stained regret,
things that in the Sun I do not fret
about or for.

A staring Sun's gaze burns so softly
upon a man walking the path
towards ever approaching melancholy.

Deep in the night he lays fast
asleep, his chest rising and falling
in long, steady breaths, his mouth wide
and eyes carelessly shut, unaware.

A light turns on and he groans awake,
disoriented at first, wiping his eyes
and mumbling incoherently about
something he thought he saw
deep in a dream already forgotten.

He gains bearing on his surrounds,
the white painted room lit by one
dangling fluorescent light, illuminating
the chips and the cracks in the walls.

He stirs, becoming agitated, his breaths
begin to rattle from his lungs.
He grasps around, patting hands
to concrete, a desperate search
for something solid to grip.

A resounding boom sounds above
and dust falls from the ceiling.
Specks fall into his eyes
and he curses,
eyes watering and blinded.

He wipes his eyes, clearing them
and takes one more look about,
searching in vain for anything
and lays down once more,
an acceptance.

The light turns off, and he drifts to
sleep once again, escaping.

I dreamed the dream of life
it’s glowing lights reflected off of
flowing streams, a magnifier ray
That blinds my sight.

I’ve walked through worlds imagined
filled with honey suckle and cutting thorns,
a vision I’d always seen tilted sideways,
blurred and hazy.

The sky shifts as the clouds continue on,
I stand planted here and study
their drifting motion, a steady crawl from
this day on to the next.

I dreamed the dream of life
and saw shadowed fingers gripping
a glossy door, opening it slowly, a dark
head slowly revealing itself around the corner,
eyes pointed down in shy approach.

A nightmare, a dream of thrashing discontent
a figure sits by the bedside, his legs crossed
scribbling thoughts on his notepad,
An unsure diagnosis and prediction
Of the yet to come and destined to pass.

I dreamed the dream of life
and I was shown collisions, barriers destroyed
by speeding bullets blurring with velocity and
crashing violently, exploding in a flash,
a strike that sends me reeling backwards
falling to the my hands and knees
coughing blood, it’s ruby drip puddling
on the ground below.

I dreamed the dream of life
And it was all I could ever do,
It was all I ever could see
a shimmering veil over eyes crinkled,
the smile withered by all of time
and time left to be.

Beep, beep, beep
A satellite circles but sleeps.
One eye always open,
It catches the lights on its sloping.

What is day but the rays?
What is night but fright?
Cold vacuum meets hull,
But the bite of frost has grown dull.

The satellite may be lonely,
But at least it knows why.
The Earth pulls it along,
As if string to kite, saying
“Please watch me, as I sing in delight.”

A bird’s song, the people clap and cheer,
Unknowingly seen by the seer.
A cruel joke, a sighing anecdote,
When all you can do is float.

This empty road leads on to the horizon
where the ground rises to meet the sky,
Becoming lost in his twinkling star-eyes,
secure within his encompassing embrace.
Or
The sky lays slowly into the Earth’s comforting
Arms and hills and scented colors of spring,
Burying his face, drowning in a lovers trance,
Nuzzling as close as possible,
But only allowed to truly touch
at the ever-shifting horizon
the end of human perception.