bring me back to
pulps of milkweed
floating in the
wind

bring me back to
the night we all  
took shelter in the barn.
the storm that shook
god off his feet.
the laughter we shared.

these tender
memories,
are tinged with
palpable heartache
and nostalgia.

i crave
the unspoken
synchronicities
of us all.

when daylight breaks, it shatters
and when night falls, i'm empty
the love, madness, passion
i give to the  stars as they
laugh wildly and say
"we'll see you again at
dawn. be broken,
be dead, or
be gone."

listen, travelling soul
our spirit guides stumpled upon
us with their ideas of
a twisted serendipity
the day that they
watched you enter
my life. the wind roared the words of a sacred knowledge. the rain
lept from the sky
with a passion unmatched
by a nun in prayer or
a blossoming rose hip after the frost, or the
child's undying
curiosity.

i asked a lot of
questions and the
answers tasted like
moonlight tinged by the
unmistakable bitterness of
darkness and unknown.

time froze before it ran out.

listen, familiar soul

i send you silently
every unspoken question-
they cling to the shadows
of the streetlamps and
the soundwaves of the
night.

i will wait and hope you
return to me singing and strumming your broken chords, so
together we can dance to the rythm of unspoken answers and the sounds of
the storm.

i awake blanketed by the morning sun and
the celestial frost that lingers on from
the night. the sound of laughter jolts me.

i watch the couple walk leisurely along
the side of the traintracks. "Hi!" the
woman says behind stale eyes and
wispy blonde curls. she stiffles her
laughter until it bellows out like
a warrior cry.

i can hear the harshness
in the words she speaks of me to
her lover, they grow more distant
as they escape my view.

i can smell the sweat of the lost
souls who found themselves here
before me.


i can taste the saltiness of the tears
that slide down the contours of my
face; an emotionless, knee-****
reaction.

however, i feel
nothing. there
is no despair
left in me. no
more hatred.
not even
sadness.

i feel only
the bitter
cold of the
concrete bridge
beneath
the weight
of my resting
body.

i feel only
the hunger
that aches
in the core
of my being.

i feel only
the rattling
of the train cars
passing , only
the rumbling of
the morning traffic
on the highway above
all of which
are lulling me back
to sleep