Ancient words spoke in syllables unknown
vortex about me in forms of growing smoke.
Ghosts of times passed swirl about,
their eyes locked to mine and mouths wide,
tethered to me as a center point.

Life must be chosen once per day
but the reaper must only make one deft move.
The smoke continues to rise and tighten,
the spirits muted howls fade in and out,
and I cough.

I choke and cough as the smoke fills my lungs,
desperately trying to expel but I fall.
There I lay, wheezing and hacking,
A rejection, a fight, a resistance,
longing for the clean air that I
did not believe until it was gone.

My throat burns dry and bruised,
but the smoke does not stop its growth
and the chants grow louder still,
filling my mind and shaking my skull.

The smoke fills my lungs to capacity and
I call out but it comes as another cough
and another after, again and once more,
my eyes watering and hands gripping chest,
until at last I gasp one rattling inhale
and Fade to black.

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.

Outside of the walls of safety, cynicism and past experience
Sits an open sea, colored turquoise green
Where inspiration and love can fly,
Like gulls circling in the wind

Sails set with west Wind
Ears locked to capture essence
Ebbing waves, it comes and goes
Gaze through Painted windows
A mind of my design,
Don’t resign, don’t neglect
Your views you visions your mind
Map chart plot set sails to wind
It doesn’t matter where you begin
Or where it ends
Only that it happens.

The only way to a good death
Is a life worth looking back on
In your final moments.

breathe in, breathe out
breathe in, breathe out
rising heartbeat, panting breath
the ***** echoing off the walls
building in volume,
block by block
note by note
the weighted hands with heavy fingers
slamming the keys in discordant rhythm,
hitting just the wrong keys at the right time
making me wince.

Pressure building buildingbuilding
breatheinbreathout
breatheinbreathout
Is what I tell myself,
In gasping breaths
While gripping grasping my chest
filled with lungs that can’t fill,
In a mind that cannot think.

The conductor looses control of the orchestra,
The instruments screech horribly
As he waves his arms vainly,
Jumping and begging for a stop,
louder and louder the instruments soar.

Breathe in, breathe out
My head falls into my hands
Breathe in breathe out
when will this ever end?

Shattered glass
The Fallen, the other path
Gathered moss
It’s overdue
Slippery and slimey
But coated, wined in
Shining shining
shimmering substance
But they know me
It has to look like this
I keep moving forward
With mushed moss
And over growth
At my boots
And treetop
Clouded lights
For my eyes

I keep a pocket watch,
meticulously polished
and
insistently checked,
in my left breast pocket.

There it lives
on it ticks,
the soft clicks a reminder
of its continuous ticking
lasting far past the heart
that beats just below.

Toxically clean,
a faint scent of acetone drifts
on the wind as I walk pass,
head down and in a hurry.

I retreat quietly, gripping
the watch I rub in circles,
counter clockwise and
in compulsion,
an absent minded fidget
that helps panicked time pass,
it’s melodic clicks a
centering metronome.

top brain forward eyes severed diluted
down mind feared essence ignored
star gaze rays smogged polluted
connect connect widen the gap
flow flow hand meets ice-water
growing numbness crackling bones
crack sip sigh Relax

unattended, withering, left to rot
chime chime signs direct where
why lark fly vines hide
the corner
beads dangle I move them
and they fall back into
they fall back into
their places
stages lights tread lightly across
and bow be sure to bow they like that
humming bird wings on twilight canvas
blurs blurs the paints and hues
dreams and views dreams and views
severed sinews, unabled motion
crack sip sigh Relax
lean back rising tide blanket and jaw slack

The man sits on the bank
of the night cloaked lake,
with his feet in the water,
for the time being.

Bright moonlight illuminates his form but
his eyes trace the ripples
he leaves in the water.

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.

Dance on wind,
Elope with sky.
Breathe in mind,
Unfold, open
as the gulls fly.

Coastal breeze,
I close my eyes
Feel the cool on my face,
Untether, let it take me where it may
With a smile sprouting upon each gust.

infinite cycle of the Moment
Break it, shake off the gears
moon hanging Low, a winding wander between stars
move concussed bemused, hollow tunes and hues
of blue acrylic mixed with black,
darkened substrate, Sewn from different cloth
The seamstress Knits and unties
All of your how’s and why’s, just give her time

Decline Rewind Desire Chasing Decay
Inspired the head Voices they laugh
And snicker, under a light that grows dimmer
yet the stars continue to shimmer and the moon
Wanders aimlessly onwards no matter your Ego
take a respite from being the one who knows

wind blows the streams flows, it’s course carved
Effervescent illusion it fades flows, makes room for the next
a bird In flight between two clasped hands,
that crumble away, now feel the night flow in
Feel the tremors remember to breath
but don’t run, look the void into form and grin
the fluttering bird knows when it’s time has come
it begins to fall fall fall in spiral, flutter in dismay
we all crumble in decay, it’s okay

Hold too tight and you will damage the image
Past nights last flights viewed from a different vantage
Produce differing feelings differing lessons
Building and bubbling tension just let it all go
Give yourself to the flow and feel your chest beginning to glow
It’s okay, it’s okay

A glimmer breaks through the clouds,
A single beam of white light drifts
through the skylight above
As I lay with back to carpet,
watching the fan lazily rotate.

The fan wobbles and creaks,
it’s paint chipped and weary.
Chains dangle below, rattling
And the blades blur in rotation.

I do not blame the ones of before
for seeing a single hopeful beam of light
and dropping to their knees in prayer,
tears dripping down in the face of
a savior, any savior.

The layers behind eyes flitting with
joy, eyes that dart about, drinking in the scene
to that of unseeing blank, wide mouthed
as if in awe of the world above,
stuck in their ways for eternity.

A soundtrack from behind the blinds,
fleeting and skittering steps into the rocking water,
crossing the ebbing tide's line in the sand.

I cross the barrier between,
I open my eyes and I see
the castle standing on an arching hill
over the snaking river.
The tower reaches high,
stretching to meet the clouds
and the bricks of the walls sit in piles
of rubble, left to the mosses
and vines that drape their faces.

My vision fades to black and it forms again,
the gray sea and shimmering light appear
as i wade deeper, now up to my knees
in the lifeless water.

Up the spiraling staircase,
a glance through the hole in the wall
as the valley shrinks below
and the hazy purple sky
envelopes the whole of my sight.

The water reaches my chest now,
my steps scraping the rocky bottom
and the white moon lighting the path
forward, reflecting in a white sparkle
on the top of the slow moving wake.

The crumbled roof at the top of the tower
gives way to the dark and starry night.
A hazy mist surrounds,
of a cloud slowly drifting through
like an ambling specter,
on the long march home.

I crouch at the edge,
at the edge of the hole at the bottom.
I fill my lungs with a last breath
and dive downwards,
the gray sea covering me
and pushing me into the lightless cavern.

The mist of the cloud passes
and the view of the valley
is cleared.
I sit at the edge of the tower,
with my feet dangling over the side.

Lost in the stars,
once again my vision fades
But the gray waves do not return,
the white moonlight dimmed and extinguished
as I sigh and sit at the top of my conquest
and remember the days i've lost
in the traceless place,
with its tranquil waves.

Man is made by the void pressed tightly around him
A silhouette with an outline flickering on gusts, in flux,
Do you see does anyone see
The mirage behind eyes and hands from behind
That grip and shift the sky

The freedom to fly to fly
but also to lie and wither,
a copperhead on dead leaves
slowly slithering
its venom dripping teeth and flickering tongue
sliced by knife wrung quick,
as i fill my glass and take a diluted sip
fade fade to fade a crossing

Man is made by the weight
that props up a fading outline
of borrowed understandings
which binds us which holds us
and releases as the tension grows slack
and in bleeds the black, filling its glass
inside the outline where breath and fire once
passed and flowed,

Will I hear a scream at the beginning
of the ceaseless dream,
or will the taught string be cut in a slash
delivering me back from where i was brought?

Ephemeral Dust, Primordial Soup
Essence in swirl,
Conscious of Unconscious
Thoughtless, Sway like a Leaf.
Under sunlight, Rejuvenation
Under moonlight, Exhalation
Vacant Plane, I wonder in Circles
Gnosis, I have to break these Chains  
Realization drenches over me
Smiling alone in the Rain.

I’m st st st st stuttering
In the corner I’m muttering
I tap my feet I dance my dance
All for the courtesy of a passing glance.

S s s s s sorry
The words jumble and tumble
Out of my mouth and onto the floor
Meeting the ground, gathering and mixing,
Melted hues congealing into gray.

W w w w why are you here
Why do you sit where sit,
Love where you love?
I I I can’t take it anymore
I can no longer fake it

T t t the light it terrifies me
The single bulb glares at me,
St st st staring, burning my pupil
Until my vision is full of
The blinding light
And my lungs full of a
releasing sigh.

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.

The ravens catch wind of my secrets,
Hidden words veiled from light.
A ghost wandering through the yard,
A frantic hand scrambles for his pen.

Specter that drifts among all,
The sleep walker slouches with
The rest, but life had long lost
It’s interest.

Eyes of lemur, tilted to the side
As if to inquire the dark.
Inward voice and scattering wind
Dry leaves blown down the empty street.

Ghost man with his ghost hands
Greek warriors in their horse, invading Trojan Lands.
Thoughts reaching sky and the stars
Sending their replies, condolences.

movement motions blurred enchanted
Surplanted, ideas sprouts plucked
displaced, renewed in the vacant vase
i wander throughout this vacant plane

transparent encasing, thought plucked
replaced by the soft tones of her voice
her words casting a spell on me,
rearranging life to my eyes,
Light to edge of the river
as the water laps to shore.

I relate to the bottom more than the top
the underside, the ***** and brushed aside,
A pencil broken under a writers heavy hand
as he schemes a way to **** his favorite
character.

I never saw eye to eye with the top.
They move in unfamiliar patterns,
talking in gibberish and doing
the tap dance of jesters.

I relate to the stick man
the half hearted attempt to cure
what we are sick with, or of.
Half shaded in,
eyes different shapes,
A toothless smile on my face.

A scribble of hair, a crooked nose
in a 2D rendition of my own design
drawn on a piece of paper
crumbled up and tossed in the trash.

Hephaestus’ hammer meets the Iron Anvil!
A gripping fire, I cannot shed its flame
I long to be and be on from
flipping downhill and and tumbling on.

Gray light becomes brightened by
a hidden Sun, a translucent mist
veiling that winking smile.

These motion blurred images of mine,
this spinning room,
Lines hovering and wavering, shaking.

Time it passes like water it flows
to a repository or blown to mist?
The times I miss when times have swung
I’ve seen the zipping wasp,
It landed on me and stung
I saw it swell I saw it welt
And I watched it zip away.

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.

The crisp air pressed to the breast of that dewy morn',
A piercing of the skin by the rosiest of thorns.
Thorn to skin, blood to air,
A soft ebbing of life from its lair.

Venous roads and capillarous tunnels,
A captured path in which life is shuttled.
That ****** thorn that interrupts its flow,
Allows life to meet that soft morning's glow.

A dawning of Spring,
The tree’s pollen eye-dust spreads free.
White paint-stroke wind swirls and
sways through the plains,
the grass kindly greets in sighing retreat.

Blue skies softly shelter,
filling the days with their comforting hues.
Sparsely dotted roaming cotton clouds dance as
the yellow Sun yawns and spreads its rays,
rousing the slumbering bear from his winter den.

Sounds of the hen’s call awaken,
a signaling for paper to meet pen.
The heart swells and empties
just as the flower’s buds lazily fall open
at the bidding of the Sun’s young light.

An open world, the never ending wood,
A night river flows just beyond the bend,
full of salmon fighting upstream from the wrong end.
A tender letter penned but not sent.
A winged man smiles and whispers visions,
guiding my ascent.

Unfortunately, a penned letter is not always sent,
just as all the hopeful salmon do not
make it back to their springing den.
Some sneak by and continue their uphill fight
but others are clawed and left stuck within the
bear’s teeth, writhing in defeat.

Drifting thoughts perched upon silicone stilts,
flatteries passed and mutely wiped away.
Unreal life, my hand drags, moving through
the oil decorated canvas of this moment
That i’ve been painted subtly into.

Blurred lines of leaves reflecting glittering sun
I sit calmly and watch their dance,
jotting notes and thinking of
Shades from black to gray.
A clearing of the throat from behind,
A spell broken mid cast and incantation lost,
to the flowing ever-flowing wind.

A sighing, a release from the hopes of
happiness, exhaling the last remnants of
youths longing for gilded futures.
The stars shine the same, the leaves glitter
on, despite my need to observe.

I circle around a seething pit,
rimmed in despair,
as a vulture hungrily around it’s edge.
Vainly I look up, to the sun
And some days it’s there,
My reasons to be seem firm,
I can smile into the light
But on others it hides and I grow unsure.

On dreary days I can’t help but glance,
A quick sideways shoot, into the pit.
Another look, this time longer,
And I see it’s familiar form beckoning to me.
I see the swirls
Of Tartarus, the awing black,
And now it grabs my full attention.

Ward it off, I say to myself,
Be strong!
Some days this works, much to my delight
On Others the words ring hollow and I am pulled in,
A rope tied in my chest
To the side of the pit,
and I sit, head down in defeat,
on its edge.

It takes everything in me not to go slack,
Relax and fall, fall, fall
Deeper into the apathetic darkness,
Into the grips of senselessness,
The liberation of nothing meaning anything
Of life being a tortured, laborious dream.

My eyes furrow and my brush stops
As I take a deeper look at the woman posed
across the room.
She stands there, silent and austere,
eyes lost in thought and staring out the window, her naked form illuminated
by the gray light of storming day.

I rub my chin and drink her in with my eyes,
Attempting to capture her shimmering
form and flowing aura,
the water droplets from the rain outside
shadow and race down her body.
Her striking power as bolts of flashing
lightning reflecting in her eyes slowly
blinking eyes.
I see the tragedy of the diminishing hour
as our time together always becomes shorter.

She exudes the feeling rocks feel
when caught in a narrowing stream.
The clear water flows over the stone,
shining it clean with a cleansing touch,
rubbing off the dirt and showing the beauty
even in-between dull shades of gray.

-lightning flash-

She glows like a Star in a deep December night
When all hope is lost, except to follow that light.
How could I capture, how could I mold
her magnificent form into but a splotch of paint?

Squashing and cutting, limiting her vastness
to the confines, a prison, of this canvas.
She glances over because she noticed I stopped,
And gives me a concerned look
to which I reply with my best attempt
at a reassuring smile.

Her concern fades softly away,
replaced with a smile and a kiss
blown my way, floating smoothly
through the air, which I eagerly catch
and hold to my chest.

She looks back out the window, her coy smile fading to chiseled granite once again.
I am stuck alone, rubbing my chin and thinking in circles, once again.

Crumpled paper damp with ink,
Immortal words washed away in the running stream.
The paper breathes longer than I,
whats behind longer still,
for the same worries I carry
are etched in the walls of Pharaoh's grave.

When the candle of life is by saliva-wet
fingers extinguished,
Sighs resound and glances cast at the
vacant seat my voice used to occupy.
The present man soon dances for the prying eye of
Retrospection.

A picture printed on the page in many days,
full of laughing smiles and vacant gaze of youth gone
blank,
The Retrospect looks closely, trailing fingers softly
over the black white rendition.
An all too human fear creeps to mind,
and he quickly turns the page.

Single entities we are,
alone in our galleys
sailing solemnly along the vast expanse
of this glittering sea.

Our eyes meet along the waves,
but both are veiled,
caught within our ferries,
a barrier between.

But if my boat meet water
as does yours
are we not connected
with hands used as oars?

Have you ever tried to draw a picture
without lifting the pencil from the paper?

One line, uninterrupted and looping
in on itself, swerving in arcs and switching
directions at sharp points.

The line grows at a constant rate
but the vectors change, how the wind is blowing
and the wobbling arrow of the compass.

A head hanging closely over the paper
and a hand pressing the pencil with trembling
force against the desk.

Eyes squinted, focused intently on the next
angle as the lead begins to tremble and crack.
Just a little more, just one more turn
the piece hasn't come together yet.

The timer beeps its descending count
10 to 9 and 8 to 7.
Sweat condenses on the brow
and the lead shatters
as it lets out its electronic shriek.

Now lift your head, trace the line with your finger
where it loops and why,
and when the work is done you will realize
where the line drifted away
from the hazy picture you had in your mind.

A scribble dons the paper,
the line intersecting randomly
and turning when it reached the edge,
influenced by the frame, not your whim.

I've reached the end of my days!
Tomorrow has never come, and I know
it never will!
I sit and wait for the sun to set, night's
humid breeze caressing my cheek with
silk touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps
that send a shiver down my spine.
Tomorrow will never arrive,
it cannot be!

Waves of distortion as these red eyes
catch aching morning light, a glimmer cast
into his irises until they dry and burn,
his head drops to his hands and a sob escapes.

The sun it goes the sun it returns
the sun it goes the sun it returns
the sun it goes the sun it returns
the sun it goes the sun it returns
the sun it goes,
the sun it returns!

An energizing sunrise!
Those bittersweet sunsets!
Each set in the molds of different lives
to everyone their specific smile or iconic laugh,
the ones that see as each of them are forced to see
due to the differing circumstances surrounding
their inhabited reality!

Tomorrow has never been, you have no proof!
On and around we spin, ruler in hand to
measure the meaning of a higher powers
light shining upon us, translating its language of
forgotten past and harrowing future.

In the middle of that vacant space in your head,
a spear pointing directly inward,
towards the infinite space still finitely contained.
Right in the middle, on the highest hill
next to the white rapids river
I am building my fortress.

I spend years digging my moat, deep and wide,
laying bricks side by side climbing ever higher
closer and closer to the sky and
farther and farther from the Earth.
A lifetime design to protect
my last spec of shining light.

Oh I know tomorrow never comes,
it never ceases, cannot end,
the light it glares and we turn to meet,
but it retreats, pushing us back to our sheets.
Time to rise and the classic
"I'm so sorry guys but i really
must go to sleep, could you please
keep it down?
I have so much to do tomorrow
and I swear on God himself
I have no time to waste!"

I have no time to waste
I have no time to waste
I have no time to waste
I have no time to waste

To the show to the show
My darling my beloved wants to dance
And sing and let go in the crowd at the show

river flow water evaporates
under pulsing beating heat waves
occilations the fruit decays
in the hands of a mans whose mind
is caught in occupations, speculations
scepticilizations denials of ripeness
the wrongness hesitations
chiseling with shaking hands
crack and splits face decay,
taste away it’s a prize fruit we hold
take a bite, love your life
or with fright watch love mold and decay

my beloved wants to go to the show today
and dance and sing and get lost in the flow Today

On I walk, upon the evaporating cloud
of ever-passing Time.
I would how many tufts of life have gone awry
from my love of staring towards the sky?

On I walk, upon the Cotton Lane.
I think and thought on cloudy days gone,
Now that the Eve of blooming May has arrived.
Desperate steps in crunching snow
with one to pray that today is not our day.
Slipped time and again, on sliding slopes
and shivering mounts, the rocks beneath
leaving itching scabs and swollen bruises,
just as nectar seeps down the stem of a budding rose.

The hanging eyes I closed one final time,
and awoke to morn' of life reborn,
a Cardinal singing melodic tunes by my bedside.
But always spring arrives, my mind begins to ring:

What plights fill my mind, come summertime?
What paths to take,
How sweet to make and
when to sugar arm hold?
Do I truly remember the cold of my winter nights,
when i dump more ice into my Sprite?
Do I actually recall the bone-chattering winds
and sweeping gales at Autumns end,
When on the same breezes kites now fly?

Bar music rings into my ears
and the people dance joyously about.
Their bodies move and tap and fly and laugh,
to the band ferociously playing a snake-charmer's tune.
I stand to join and reach my hand for hand to grip
but the daydream ends and I awake to my room
my mind achingly awake before my body
has the time to stretch or to bloom.

Eyes daze, pseudo-malaise,
The soft lament of wasted days.
Whatever needs be done be done,
As long as none insist on clearing
My veiling haze.

Dim those lights, turn down the sounds
My mind becomes crowded,
Elbows bruising.

The further pushed from,
The deeper pushed in.
Raised voices and wagging fingers
Have no effect but a
Deeper shove to the depths.

Firm hands held haughtily between strangers
A meeting with the spirit lost
To the deep end of the well,
The cracks in bone show age

new light yellow dawn dew on leaves
crease in seams torn sow sow them back
glow through black glow into the night
yellow light white light bird flight owls hoo
at the party I took something that made the stars dance for me
that made the wind speak
that made my heart leap to meet my mind a stiffening spinal column
avert my gaze I’m shy I cannot hold
the connection the link of pupil to pupil dilation
annihilation the end, atoms spreading up the wall
until it’s pulled back to black to white light
plug in my night light and tuck my bed right
and sleep snooze snore softly floating into void, ceaseless night

Thoughts of my many lives reduced to subtle sighs,
Living breathing hues reduced to written lines.
Up the vines I carefully climb and am then dropped,
Falling slowly, hands gripping rope burns blazing hot
Resisting gravity’s insatiable allure.

Ground meets spine and my lungs collapse
Upon a bed of lichen my eyes bulge, and then relax.
Stars dance constellations behind eyelids and
Are engraved into the stone of memory,
The lichen becoming a decomposing cemetery.

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

in the abandoned palace sits an empty Seat
an arching Hall left empty after the retreat,
grab my hand grab my hand
let us depart the hallowed land!

rising Star a tangerine sky
mourning dove's calls echoed across the pond,
dew on blades of grass wove
and filled the endless plain.

I woke up I don't know where today
my exhaled breath fogged and dissipated
into mist, caught on the breeze
gone to who knows where
i haven't heard from one
who goes there.

who knows where
light and life go to hide
as the sun reaches higher into the sky,
a sky that doesn't look the same
from this side of the line

who can know
where the white streams of jets go
as their cutting lines dart across
the light blue canvas and fade away

to be one or the other
a choice like a ripple from a rock
tossed into the tranquil pond
an oasis where the animals come to drink
in the swirling scene of a tangerine sky.

They sing from along the path,
lined like torches would, evenly spaced.
A hazy wood surrounds me,
swirling trees and melting hues
of a late summer afternoon,
fiery colors dancing and melding together,
flowing to the next,
cream in a Sunday morning roast.

The colors, the chimes
they illuminate my stumbling journey,
my tottering travel.
I stop and catch a gaping breath,
bent over, panting, and begin to listen.

The wind pushes the trees,
it sounds the chimes colliding ring,
it exists in flux,
rising in singing ascent
and exhaling in a comforting sigh.

Drifting down the path,
I separate and regenerate
With each glitching step forward
my face distorts, rearranges.

What is the source of verse, of thought?
Rehearsal, a precursor who holds us like
a ventriloquist through time, or is it just
a keen ear for your minds own
singing wind chimes?

Stuck, caught in the middle of
thought-crossed intersections
of the city during rush hour.

Headlights veer and blind,
horns shriek loudly and people yell
Shaking their fists from their windows.

This is all fine, livable,
if not for the times where the cars
do not narrowly miss,
Or a driver swerves, distracted and remiss and
the cars crash, collide, and clog
the roads, making me wince.
The solid impact and burning flash of pain,
my forehead hit squarely with a wrench.

In this empty space I reach out my hand
to grasp the silken veil draped over our snow globe.
I run my fingers over its surface,
It babbles as a brook flows in between
my fingers.

Scenes constantly shift, disappear and reappear
on its surface and as I grasp the material
it crumples like an old picture crushed in disdain.
I inhale slowly, filling my lungs,
and yank the covering off
in one quick motion.

It collapses inward, being pulled towards my grasp.
The scene's decay, all fade to black one be one
and the material grows course and heavy,
piling on the ground and revealing
revealing
revealing

the deepest, most consuming black
a color so dark it seemed to absorb all light
devouring it and demanding more
and laughing all the while.

My breathing speeds
and I turn
stuck in the consuming black.

The camp fire burns high and
Provisions carried from home are passed about.
Laughing faces of the unyet tested,
The over morale of an Emperors finest legion
Marching into Gaulic lands
With heads held high.

Spirits are soaring and blessings are passed,
And the fluttering thoughts of home are flower painted.
Perhaps I will be back before the July sun
Bakes my armored back,
Perhaps I will be back to attend to Love
And its reaping yield
Before a burning sun alters my heart.

You read my poem and said you liked it,
Your eyes glowed and you read it twice
It was no surprise when it
became my favorite.
So I wrote another, with the thought of you in mind
But to you it was never shown
And now I can’t help but wonder
if you would like this one too.