A framed memory
Of the red of the crackle of leaves
Of my feet, that’s me paused
I didn’t dare breathe
Other souls stammer about
The winter’s eaves
Their shoelaces whipped free
Sunlight ignites our hair
As long lost words we speak

In pictures we are fantasy

Childhood is a shelf
(And I just disqualified this poem)
What is a sunrise serves the self
(And you're wishing for a line to throw em)

My grandfather skirted summer on a skif
(Here's a captain/sea reference)
What childhood knows is gods and man
(Insert visions of blonde teens covered in sand)

Humanity is defined as persistence times grief
(See, stanzas are just the principles of belief)
I never became more than a child wanting the beach
(Emotion for me is just out of reach)

Cigarettes tease tales of bar scenes and new rooms where adults seethe with celebrity
The stupid of youth, so fluid in shapely steps unburdened with
Success
Regret
Forget
A pack of Camels, no
Marlboro Lights
And a lighter and
The swirl of amber unfiltered ghosts forming
Our nights

Delivered as Child
I am to be a son
I am to become a man
I will cast the role of my old age
I am rage...

...not unfurled, curled or the world’s it is just another twirl into the vapor of godly entrails hopping bartending spirits remaining aghast at the cross firing back sparks of the universe, the remarks it takes for granted, the relationships it stains with the revenue of heartache and the generosity of the insane I remain uninterested in Time, in the mind of nature resting itself between the toeholds of gravity on the breeze, the wheat, the fleet of glances I cast her. The ever after crafted by poets and thieves and the deceit of my pleas ******* the gaze of eternity...

Life seems longer as a kid
you swim deeper into recompense
Every word comes from a deeper breath.  
Every shadow, consequence.  
The soul struggles
when it feels, you know, the
drunk slipping away.  
It was promised eternity.

Words caught under teeth,
grinding the dust of heartbeat,
stars, the bin of planetary rubble collected by mans
rocketeer tin cans.  
I am a failed star, too small to sustain the fusion process,
to fuse the hydrogen isotopes
atop the delirium of mad cap humanity unravelling its fertility strand.  
My days just land
and will for as long as I can stand

Will to live
To forgive the stars for gravity
For the Time taking you from me
For the roll of blood beneath our skin
Chemical notions doing us in
For the Light that takes us from our dream
The click-clack of mankind; the dusty machinery
Forgive Love for making itself necessary
What Gravity becomes when loose from sanity
Forgive Her face and Her touch
The pull of everything a bit too much