Humble whisper caught in
lazy waters, free yourself

that you may pass by tomorrow
from peace into motion

Life as we see it is
all about new beauty
and you've been brave this
new year

My back is tight, knotted
I'm not entirely sure why
But I would trap a dozen
Eskimos for a massage, honestly

Enter the sad realization that, despite
Bruno's good intentions, he is unable to
Fulfill this request with paws
Oh, but that's alright

It's one of those half-hearted dreams
That drifts along in wispy bits
Every now and again
To whisper and invoke a peace
Within the cataclysm, but don't dare
Turn around, or it will be
Gone

Like the ghostly fingers untying me
One loop at a time because
They've lost the scissors

throb through my veins
free between atmospheres
music burrowed in much
too deep to ever
bleed out

Fling your paint across this canvas
Bring to it your struggles
Fill it with the colors of your life

And don't hold anything back
Or the casual passerby
Might wonder what it was

To admire the waves from beneath
Calm into crash into calm
And churn up the sand underneath
Calm into crash into calm
And sit there and gnash your teeth
Where land is what's upside-down

All I know beyond
a flicker of a flame of a
doubt is that, for whatever
inexplicable reason, you are
fascinating

and each and every day, every
moment with you brings new
light into the equation

so bring on the days and
build up a lifetime

Opportunity grows flowers

Somewhere between the pillow and
the motivation of a Sunday brunch lies
relative stillness and steady
progression of time like a
lightbulb, growing
brighter each second

Quirky is one way to
  say it
  without bringing to mind all
these insects, teleporting wings
      you bring for me
    
fireflies wavering in
           dreamland river silence
         ladybugs to fuel fires
    violent light and diminish
               to reality in the morning

this hall feels solid, but I see you
   and it starts all over again
         the most wonderful feeling
      I wish you could
                             you do?
                  brilliant.

Hustle and bustle brings
Grins frozen onto faces
Mantras pounding rhythms into
Sunken eyes
Hollow out a space for me
Within yourself
Please, I wish
To know what makes you
Tick
To put to fire
This opportunistic kindling
I stumbled upon
While on the run
From my greatest enemy

your words make me
ache as far as a torch
stretched between murky-
blank pages

do not wait to scrawl your
truths until heavy resignation
creeps over my head like
a dark shawl

do not wait -
                         - I miss
                         everything and nothing
                         and (god
                         **** it)

the philosopher was right in
assuming a search for completion
leads only to a sort of frustrated
compassionate silence,
                                           so
                                      tired of being tired of growing
                                      weary with assumptions,
                                      mad libs of the spirit, only
                                      fill in the line with whatever
                                      you dream might be,  


              no


let me know you, the real
uncensored and true
(I can love) you

I feel like a child being spelled at
to keep the F-I-L-I-B-U-S-T-E-R for
adult ears only but even though
I admit the fact
                           - I know next to nothing
my heart desperately
wishes to know
you, everything.

Our coats are almost the same
They keep us comfortable, colored
Safely there, yes?
Different zippers, different things
Holding each of us together
And similar but distinct
Colors, more red in mine and
Blue in yours, but
Our coats are almost the same

Pockets for thoughts you don't want to
Open until later
Hoods for hiding, sleeves for hiding
Insecurities
Mine has a hole, and as far as I know
Yours does not

Our coats are not the same
And that's good
Reservations at a fancy table in an
Alright restaurant play out our words
And the jackets remain on our chairs as we
Leave, preoccupied with conversation

******* these
   ******* words these
                      ******* words are
all I have
             what?
letters on a page, not even a real page anymore, you've made sure
of that always accessible and easier to be online with things
   digital and cold

What did I think talking could change I
        preach the power of words and let them fall short
  stumble over each other in a race to get out of my throat

We'll change the world, sure think of a way to do that tomorrow could
I get back to you then I don't want to think about the process let's please focus on
The end result that might not happen but who cares, what is happening really and what is
For that matter we all could be ants I'd really like to go to Mars and discover how we began the
Human mind why would we want to learn about that it's not like we'll live forever let's just make ourselves
Happy so we don't have to plan for the future and then we can go drift like seaweed, forever free and
Weightless

Crazy talk.

Blasted folklore.
Blasted rock.
Blasted candles.
                         ganged up and
blasted me.

Life is a flower
Blooming in the darkest corners
Stretching for the light

Pedals of purple, white, yellow
Accented by a forest green stem

So too should we be
As flowers

Should a pedal wilt and die
Let it fall and
Grow another.

It's always good to be a rock
Incapable of being influenced by anything you might
Encounter and shy away from only to explore later on
From all the sicknesses and worries that plague so many
Minds at present

But so-called rocks are liars.

we'll build a fire tonight
     welding your heart
              and mine

if you cut me open
you would hear music

If love is the answer,
Tell me the question
Tell me your question
And I'll give you my answer

I want to disappear
       into a poem and compose a
   phrase for you to follow

Evenings of black rubber
       and silky piano with
                   four-part choir harmony

Evenings of
           flickering candles
      chicken parmigiana
                an introductory salad

Evenings of  
                         cello sighs
                        champagne lies
                                               sunsets

               fade slowly to morning
                     every time

In the end, the little ones
scampering about peppers, vibrant
red and yellows and oranges disappearing
into tiny mouths, behind toddling grins with
Meme and Pepere beaming, a
beautiful sailboat in their minds' eye that
was fortunate enough to lose sight of
the shore long ago

Words etched in my memory
Set free amidst a cloud of feel-good vibe
That was the plan all along

to cast off the chains
ignore the blades
(they've kissed your skin enough)
and feel good

My psych textbook attributes any and all good feelings
To our need as people to belong to something
But we hold ourselves on too high a platter
And forget that there is more out there than ourselves
To belong is not necessarily to other people
To belong is to an idea
To belong is to a word
To belong is to your world
To belong is to the roads less traveled
To belong is to the path worn down
To belong is to the bustling city
To belong is to the smallest town
We are no different, no different at all from
The beings we look down upon and slaughter at whim

A greater purpose is needed.

What place luminescent
joy has in a winter storm
I know not, but between
the labored breaths and
windy retaliation, it
shines

As I have grown to understand

Most everything can be fixed with
      a little duct tape and minimal effort while

              S
               c
              a
               r
              s

          never fade to those
                scarred by time; unforgiving
   are the years that forbid such

                     (memory lapses)
      to look upon

  unblemished skin and see
                
              
                   ******        wreckage
            
                                                 since faded to
                                                              ­white ribbons like smoke

The storms randomly appearing outside my window
I thought it was an angry neighbor, rolling their garbage can around in rage
To an intrusive fence or overly vocal dog
But no
It is a full-fledged raindrop fest
That affixes itself to my ears in memory and
As an old friend, this rain

But I am a bit tired
Unused in my 6 months of laziness to any expenditure of
Energy whatsoever
And I ran in your name today
Red-faced and puffing, mostly nearing the end
I ran in your name

It felt good.

I found myself wanting to get you a necklace
  you know
to replace that one with the silver heart you wore before
      the chains got all tangled

I even picked it out, a light blue teardrop of glass to
match mine

no symbolism gets by you, and I wanted to get for you a
    tangible reminder that sadness is always there but

safely contained in a beautiful teardrop from
me to you if that makes any sense whatsoever
to lift up the latches and feel our breeze come
through the glass

there is a sense of fragility in tangible things
  a sense that cautions me from investing any power in one

if only there were a way
I hope you never forget

Only the best
       built up in an instant then
     sustained for a lifetime
              like a rainbow treehouse
           with a terrific view

I'll have a sturdy platform
       ready to hold you
   when you are

How can I bring you to understand
The fragility of these words, that
It can all disappear in an instant
Dissolve into particles so small they
Refuse to be named

How can I convey the sense of urgency
That all moments stand as marble
In a hall of memory, waiting
For the last few empty shelves to be filled

When I tell you I miss you
When I tell you I'll miss you
I mean it

how have you been?
we never talk anymore
god knows I was stupid enough that
afternoon to give up on frisbee and
throw it all away in a few words plopped at your
feet in the grass and sun

and I do regret it, but
there's nothing to be done
to remedy the situation now

I just remember the texting marathons at
two in the morning with phones
plugged into walls because our
batteries couldn't keep pace with our
excitement

I remember Bo and Jenny, your matching dogs
Bo was always the chill one, probably still is
and I remember convincing you, making sure
you knew drugs were never the answer to loneliness

and now it has all
been thrown away for so long
and you've embraced what you will

I only wish I could take it back

Purple mountains purple
Circles purple eyelids
Purple wrist

I can't risk it
I won't let myself
Put myself through all that **** again
I won't.

What?

You don't believe me?

...

It's how I look at you, isn't it.
The hope.

I didn't think it would show so plainly on my face.
Never wanted it to.

I suppose now that is has you expect me to explain myself
I refuse.

well, maybe just a little.

I parallel myself to the man who drowns on a boat in a freshwater lake
Surrounded by love
And somehow distanced from it.

I have grown to slap the hand that reaches for the water
And that hand has learned to remain
hidden.

I am a lost soul who speaks in metaphors because the truth would hurt you
and God knows I don't want that
Playing with words, toying with a melody
It keeps me sane.

So if a glance slipped out from within
I apologize

It won't happen again.

I didn't want to wake
up this morning

(people who like the winter
most of all enjoy making their
own warmth)

be my summertime?

I could trace the trail of heartbeats from where
yesterday began and be right back where I am,
but something's different
               (this is new and beautiful)

We stamp letters with the tiny feet, cook
chicken parmigiana meat, our timeline
means a lot because you're in it

(Here and now I'm feeling like I'm living deep
inside the house we picked)

I can almost taste it
     and I'm homesick.

I was right. All composed of circles, but
Not a bad thing
Relations make life worth living and
Knowledge of them dispels any notion that
It is not

So deeply intertwined the little glimpses
Matter, carry
Explosive realizations in their handbags

It is hot, we are more than
Excited molecules and yet not
Really, excitement is relative
And we enjoy being excited

Heat transforms into a manifestation of
Interrelation awareness

Our world is largely cold and digital
Not to say we need to be

Neutrality is too often stifled by
Polar hands

What is my aim?

A fantastic query to which I have many answers
I aim to explore the most beautiful and most mundane places on our planet
And keep secrets when they should be kept
And fly to great heights and sink to great depths and
Traverse lengthy tripwires that stretch between skyscrapers in the Mojave Desert

But tonight my aim is to be with you
And be with you
And be (where was it again?)

Ah, yes. With you.

I didn't know

     after all those band-aids we so
    painstakingly crafted for each other years
       years ago
                           yours had fallen off

    I wish you I wish you
      I wish you had told me sooner it's
not
     the best time to get a call like that in
            a sunny dog park
          
            but I will be there for you if you're here
                there for you when you leave
             there for you PERIOD.

                    nothing will change that

  It's funny, no matter
            how long I rub my eyes, I can't seem to
      catch my breath catch it maybe nope

             I will be there tomorrow
                and we will talk about our past

and your future

Why are some things labeled

                                                  TRASH

   and others passed on to grandchildren?

Thought I'd seen it all in a crowded room
                                           I hadn't seen anything
                                           Least of all truth
We talk about the things
That day and night and our light bring
                                                   So tell me just a bit more
                                                         about you

Don't leave me to my own defenses
Leave me up against a wall
                                                          
While I recognize
        the reason I keep coming back is you
It's always been
  you


The streetlight sputters like a flame
Maybe it senses our sincerity?
         that here and now is where we're meant to be

Side by loving side.

People are never who you expect them to be
No one conforms, in the simplest sense

We all move on; we all change
Nothing is solid, nothing remains

Walk on as the road behind you crumbles.

Challenge is welcome
And to become strong on your own
The support of others may or may not
Make a difference

If he, it
the white jumper
had waited would you
still be wandering alongside me

lost on a boat of stems
  gasping for water
                        within the
                 scream the scream the
                                 scream the SCREAM
to make all our wishes heard
            at a magic personal
                           invasion of privacy
                     or at the bottom
     of this well of gratitude?

                                                     ­                                                     exposed
    ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                
                ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                            to regain
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                   composure fall
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                          back into
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                               place like
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                        splinters
                                                                ­                                                                 ­             
                                                       god knows
                                               what else goes on  
                                                           inside your
                                                      vibrations­


                                                              ­                                                                 ­                but she pretends she doesn't

Don't waste the
  sunlight now it's
    a beautiful day to feel
  that golden glow all around you
          no time to waste with meteor showers
       jump on up here!

    wait, it's a candle
someone left burning.

                                                               ­                                           sigh

                      don't waste the candlelight.

Oh, to learn in such
a freezer, clear heads
with minty logic as
one wall and one time
only stand between
me and a succulent
noodle-feast

You don't realize what you have until it's next to gone

You don't recognize the truth in a "first" until long after the seconds and thirds

You don't appreciate comfort until you have known true pain

You don't realize what you have until it's next to gone

But I'm going to do something about it.

gentle awareness as though you've
framed my heart in roses while I
slept atop the pellows

Open the book and
         BAM!!!
Right in the face
Screams Chapter One

"SHE STOOD BY THE WINDOW
AS RAIN DRENCHED HER POODLE"

Begin to wonder
Why her poodle is outside
Is it a punishment?
Is there a jail poodle among us?

The megaphone changes hands
And Chapter Two asserts

"WELCOME TO THE RAT RACE
FRIENDS, BE SURE TO PICK UP
YOUR CAP AND GOWN"

At the door, you wonder
Only to conclude that this
Book is nonsensical, surely
Or at least not for the
Faint of heart

I die a little bit inside each time
you offer an explanation for my
self,
   stubbed heart [popped out of sync]
   dips toward the ground and
   flutters to a silence

a still, empty blue presiding over
the world at large tonight, permeated
by plumes of white
(from the scrambled heads of dreamers)

nothing to hold against your
fiery facade, flaming formidable
fits of brilliance blazing before
my flustered eyes

and why do we cease to
contract, left ventricle?

to start up again and enjoy
it that much more (the second
time around)

Stalemate.
No one can move
All other pieces are gone
Just the two kinds
Endlessly circling the board
Afraid to get close
So it is impossible

And the black flies
Laugh from overhead
Assured of a feast
In good time

As their strength dwindles
And the two kings sway
Their patterns through the squares
Toppling to span several

Even in death
At least one square between
These two
As the commentators
Swoop in to
Claim their prize

A tinge of lavender, high D plunging
rubber into musical veins

All the world's a stained glass window through which
we can view ourselves

This is the good time, the awareness