How mystical you dance,
Skipping over the surface,
I peek out the window,
Just for a look,
Into your shimmering soul,
As you provide life,
Thoughts of your value,
Whilst you descend,
On moonlit nights

free thoughts on my day the universe
the guy with a sign on the corner a backpack  
his life on the side of a highway just wanting to go to
Dothan -his sign says

I turned the other way ,
I had my day all planned.
Two jobs to do make enough
dough for my weekend party.

I thought about him
for the next ten miles
heard his loneliness sing through
my tires

I turned around went back
glad I had found a care a heart
concern for someone other than I

And got back to that corner  
empty , it was. No man no sign no backpack no worldly belongings
alone on a corner of a highway in Alabama.

I rode my way back home. decided to take a day off
and think.

that was  yesterday, I said to my sinister sister
she replied that is everyday
I made a face of derision
she drew her face into a gargoyle almost
threatening it was
if she had not been my sister
and I knew all the evil she had in her was
to trip me ice skating and break my arm
I would have been scared
but I saw her and our horse
he hated her
so I knew she had this evil streak
this horse was calm with everyone , but her
he bit her every chance he got , kicked her in the guts,
I rode him *******, he took off with her one day and ran her into a
hanging sign, broke both her front teeth,
and would not eat from her hand,
he was very clairvoyant,

you say , I think, I am just
transferring sibling rivalry into a thing,
not true kind sir, she once
made fire out of my baseball cards with one look
they just flamed up. I think I had pulled the arm off her Barbie before but , hey.
I didn't do it with my eyes.
I learned to get along after Mom and Dad passed
mysteriously.
Then at our family reunion , the thirty year one,
I got suspicious. Only her and I were there.
We started talking about the past .
I said I had to go ***.
Passed the restroom
and have been running ever since.

a picture is a thousand words
while poetry is a million translations
of feelings said by one
to all

You shift in shapes like poems change their feel,
Yet you are still remaining really real.

this poem has no title
for it to lean on
so there is no telling
the direction it goes

no title to hinder
or hold it back
all of its meaning
is in all that it says

this poem has no title
to hold it in place
it can only rely
on the rhymes that it makes

whether they're good
or whether they're bad
this poem has no title
to hold its hand

this poem has no title
to weigh it down
which forces a read
to find what it's about

and what it's about
you may not find
until you have reached
the very last line