The glow of our candles
Blazing thoughts into the darkness around
Crunches from violin strings
Circumventing the whole world
Instead to focus on the light

The beauty.

Some people get so caught up in the physical
Attributes of our mutual friend
They lose sight of what brought them together in the first place
We are not some people.

Remembrances are not a consideration
Stand as a false choice on the punchcard
I will dream with you
Wide awake, stepping on eggshells, scared to death
Into the night with you, walking our rainbow path
Eyelids heavy enough to allow for a beautiful life

The devil's words will hold no merit, no weight
In this new world of ours
God knows we are all good friends
Knots of fear sinking to the pits of our stomachs
******* and twisted

But barbed wire and blades cannot cut your flesh when
You choose not to believe in them
They will bloom into clouds and
Float far away

Reach for the leather-bound book on the highest shelf
Touch an angel's face
Drink in tears that pour from the ceilings of every library
Too fragile to break
And the soul listens to all it holds in between its slender fingers
Rich dirt raining down from the crevices
Raining life upon a wasteland

"I'm just stepping out for a bit"
           you casually mentioned
                            before a dispassionate hug
                            stole you from the warm
                            glow of your own kitchen
                          
                    and I must admit I believed you
                    where an image has remained for
                    all this time in my mind of your
                    return home

     but life continues on beneath the shadow
     left by your departure, dimmed sunlight,
     warm rain
                          and now the center ring
                          with word of the dropping
                          temperatures, the fire at
                          apartment 12D and of
                          the car that carries you
                          back to me
             wait
                                     what was that?  
a dream of mine
getting ever so
twisted up
in reality

our house lights dim, a
hush spread thin as a whisper
caught on your tongue embraces
eyes, hearts, calls them closer

to the passionate vibration between
mind and string from my
girl across the world, it seems a
symphony of indelible impact,
vocalization
to sympathetic heart-drum as
I close my eyes

once more dreaming
for two hands in the dark

Good evening, lettuce.

You are not long
for this world.

Charcoal sky
**** me up
Spit me out over an ocean
Let me drift to its bottom
Marvel at the creatures
And remain
With you, charcoal sky
Forever with you

kept under wraps like
an under-water welcome
bubbled up like kerosene from an
O-shaped mouth is
this hope

this hope that
someday truth should
transcend better judgment and
stipulations

that someday
you will listen

A challenge for
most people, looking
into the eyes of another
for ten whole minutes

but there is so much
I can see within your
colors, your soft
airy connection as if an
examination of my
soul deemed it a perfect
fit for your own
and our trial
run of five counts to
sixty was through
in a blink

Thunder hearts, rainstorm
breath, lightning smiles

Tonight was to
   be the night of flair of
pomp and extravagance and
  life and reason

Though months of late close their doors
    this transition is a welcome one
  to fresh fiery fall
         and associated mindsets

In the winter we will sleep
  Spring brings rabbit-like copulation
And our summer leads emotions to run rampant

But now, 40
     note-cards later
  no progress has found me this night

Look where you want to be
              consider it
  
         what are you still doing here?

(Who wants to know whether
     my heart is scalding still in this cold where
  lungs breathe melted snow every so
often, crystal air caught in twin glasses)

        -Who wants to uproot the
              depths I turn over, weaving
                   days into life worth living and
                cherishing people worth
                              the worry in mind-

                              [Who claims to be
                                      here like a
                                      break in the
                                      tide of grander things, forever in
                                      motion? whose
                                      persuasion stops those hands'
                                                  spinning for a single
                                                              implausible
                                                ­                    moment?]

                         Oh, it's you!

                                  well, that's alright then.

Love is a candle.

Like music, its soft
fluid motions
Focus my mind

Nothing is wrong when
               the trees remember to smile
               and birds have a place to
               roost for the winter

Nothing is wrong when
          life bubbles up and over lids
          of eyes well-versed in late-night
          conversation

Nothing is wrong when
                       she catches someone's gaze and
                       neither one of them feels the need
                       to look away

Nothing is wrong on hammocks set
    deep in the green


            But everything is wrong today

It must be convection
      this circulation of thought
  but I appreciate you, I
              do
                      like a fish in the desert
         wonderfully alive for no reason
                   scientists can explain but
            hey, if the fish is happy

  when this energy is
              put to paper and
         vibration
               in the near
      future, all the desert fish in the
                    world's sands will
         stop their party and
  sing out
          hallelujah

I aim to make you uncomfortable
Crunch off every ounce of your mentality
And float away, dancing inside flowers

Heavens crash upon a raindrop in a flurry of
Sighs

where musical notes spill over into fine
tequila, crowded dancing, conversation

they remember the night.

It's like a pit (a
massive gap in the thoughts that
unsettles you)

and (lest your resolve be crushed to
a fine powder suitable only for the most
tasteful framing)
saturates conversation like a
virus

but there's a problem with this
invitation, if only to

convince yourself the gap is
useful, (that it's a landmark of
sorts, a real treasure, why not
picnic next to it, make up stories
and holidays and marvel at the
obvious ingenuity of the earth in
creating such a beautiful loss)

at the end of the festival, (when the
streamers have faded and
the food lies stale, when the cars have
herded their people home for the
night and the moon reclaims
her sky from clingy weathermen)

it is still a hole, (and you might
fall in).

Who is the awake? of
cold rainy fingers dripping top
hat to foot

wave wave to the shadow tied to this wall as if
it wouldn't recognize you as if it
wasn't obligated to return the favor, as if it had
a choice

and who is the laughter? disembodied and
floating through hallways, indistinguishable
anonymity rising and flailing again as if light
makes all the difference

don't we know it?

What it is to be alone
     in the silence lit up by christmas rainbows
     with thoughts like wildfires
     scorching a mind set on sleep

            What it is to walk without purpose
                  along blackened avenues where
                  crisp leaves move out underneath
                  this carefully-balanced falling

And to think of the future
    a wish on the moon

Among the fires, distance
once insurmountable wishing
memory into loving proximity

(1)

a soft fall, a cool glance and
stars from the sky taking
root in our hearts,
fanning out warmth

(+)

two hands of the clock
blinking past like sweet lash
and streaming like veins in
the arms of a forest

(1)

you say it feels off, floating
down from our heights and
it burns like a last but it can't
be, not yet, with years
more to find

(=)

I politely refuse to
give way, the
key to my heart resting
firmly in your pocket

(2)

and a smile from you
kindly seared into me

Yellow is the color of the banana you ate
before you died in that beautiful place

Surrounded by faces

I find the places we have been
    miss us while we're away

for rivers to know laughter and then
          only the rush of water

            no parameters, no
         sense of urgency,
                
       nothing compares.

I won't settle for any
mild "hello"s

bring me a
spicy salutation

You know you've been searching for something
As for what that dewdrop holds, anything but a compassionate smack
Upside your head inside a tree beside
Our waterfall

Stinging water, soothing thorns expand under parting skin
Only to laugh as the crocodile laughs

Did we really think it could monopoly the skies?
What a falsehood

I wish you'd understand how
deep this truth runs

maybe then you'd open your
heart

I am self-sufficient

an island with drawbridges leading
every which way, blue
water instead of fences, green stickers
in place of war, red statements turned bold
statements proclaiming one thing or
another lit perspective on the
streets

and the funny thing is
with no sky, no atmosphere
to brand by our savage mark, corrupt and burn
full of the gray the undecided man drags with
himself

it's so hard to breathe
and each day is a marathon
in the blazing sun

where such a chilled glass of
water speaks volumes and
dives leagues beneath the
icy surface of the human
condition

hold up the sky with rain-kissed
fingertips, I'd never dare to ask whether
you find solace in cotton clouds or cool blue
atmosphere, dare to
risk a return to wherever it was I
existed before

the weather knows nothing will
change
              how could anything?

perpetual dreaming is
a nice way to live, provided
one is secretly awake

It is early
And the day is not ready to begin
But we force it to anyhow

Why pause for a second
When you could be accomplishing something
You know how things are
How people become
Either what they wanted or
A socially acceptable polar opposite

Listen to the elder
Innate is the desire for concrete expression
That is to say
A medium that one may reflect upon

Our populations at large have masked this need
Supplementing it with a salary or material goods
This is false fulfillment

This is false fulfillment
And will leave you hollow
And cold.

light through the glass / to wake whistling and shoot the
mockingbird / takes longer to warm a bed than / with two / one
and one forever / alone a promise to keep / you safe from / him
you / safe from you

in turn / the moon a wall / sunbeams penetrate blue / lively laughter
for once now / never again

joyous loops / (sensuous sputtering) to / life as we see it / but love
as we / plead remains (fault of the tried pleads guilty) /
silent

months return / in spiteful presence call / back the rain time /
rages over this landscape our / ravaged faces / weeping with
relief / as they pass

I miss you / so far from / trying to find yourself / lose your / self /
in the trees just / make sure when you / come back / to me / you
remember how wonderful life can be and why you should never
consider / leaving / when I'm waiting for you to knock on my
door

*I miss you too / and it's lonely out in / these woods but I remind
myself / replay your sincerities in my mind when I find myself /
drifting

I'll be home soon / please be there

Flint of question,
Steel of theory
Light a candle in a mind

My phone lights up and goes dark.
An "X" with your name beside
A missed call.

I return.
You pick up.

Flash:

It's the eighth grade again.
It's 4 am.
I muffle my voice so my parents won't hear us talk
I refuse to hang up until I hear a click from your side
To preserve what I can, savor the moment

Return:

Tonight, we talk.
We discuss what went down on your side of the world this week
And remember old jokes
(your cat is only fatter)

Tonight, you're tired.
You and I both should go to sleep.
We sign off, say our good nights

And I am the first to hang up.
As I was that July, three long years ago.

*People change.

There's a skylit drawl tumbling down the pavement
And a cardboard box waiting on your screened-in porch
And if we don't slow down, I think that we could make it
Back where we were before

And the sunsets fall when memories fade away
It's times like these that make me want to say

You are the light that brightens my eyes, you
Are the time I want to know, you are
The comfort of the ocean when I'm all alone
You are the fire burning slow from
All the corners of the globe

Now I'm here but
when I'm there I'm home

As the night comes all the lovers start their walking
Traced by footprints next to railroad tracks

There's nothing to say what goes away is
never coming back, try and relax

but if you ever come on back

You are the light that brightens my
eyes, you are the time (I
want) to know, you are (the comfort of)
the ocean when I'm all alone
You are (the fire) burning slow from
All the corners of the globe

Now I'm here but
when I'm there I'm home

You're right, let's
see where this will lead
and in an hour I'll concede to
spending all my afternoons the
sun rising and setting with you
reliably

like after-hours swimming pools, we
lead the way and make our own rules
******* to the ordinary, bring on
hula hoops and sherry

I'll send my heart wrapped in a letter,
hope that it will get there over shimm'ring
sails and stormy weather, hope that it
will find its way to you

Insistent upon raised
hands, smoky glasses, drizzled
shards of affection every
now and again when it's
convenient to pipe in the
clean stuff from upstairs

is it diffi-
cult for the benefit of a
nonmaterial bruising, all
greens and gray-colored finger-
tips from a waiting man, you
"never jump where the
bottom rises to meet you", never
drink a road down before you
guess its name to be

satisfied is an abomi-
nation without progressi-
on the path to stagnant waters where
only the living float, belly-
up like dollar bills

Is love what we make it out to be
             when we cling to it out of desperation
     fall all over it in forgetfulness
          drink too deeply and grow drunk on its richness
      
  brass is the heart that is mistaken for gold
                  functional but misleading

Is love what we want it to be
      when we ache in
                  fond recollection

I make up little games for myself sometimes
placing bets on the future, silly things

and I dropped a vitamin C tablet accidentally this
afternoon, immediately declaring a wonderful
something (written dream spoken
aloud) would transpire should the
next one be pink as well
rather than orange or yellow

and it was, so I
smiled a bit and
hope shone an
ounce brighter
tonight

1 mouse lived in the forest with
2 pieces of cheese to his name.
3 days before his hole was to be dug, his
4 whiskers quivered with anticipation so violently the
5 friends who shared his burrow were tickled mad by the happenings and found
6 weasels to eat various parts of the mouse in the hopes of making still his
7 days that remained before the farmer would have killed him anyway with his trowel

How cruel the world can be to a poor little mouse.

Anne learned to play piano
At the tender age of four
Swore up and down
She'd leave that town
But never seemed too sure

Around her all the fellows
Would gather and they'd dance
For hours on end, she had a way
To put them in a trance

And that slight figure wobbled on
Until it was her time
To raise the curtains
Face the lights
And play like it's a crime

mix some shakras up in a glass and
drink it down it's a celebration a time of
times the present lives among and within our
thoughts, groping for memories we call home time and
time again as light finds us stuck full of hypodermic nonsense
shrinking from shadows until we shake hands in a corner and they're not
so bad they're quite inviting and provide all the stuff we need when we need it
like an infinite knapsack of colloquialism forever surrounded by stars

jupi tear me down.

And, best of all
                 neither you
                        nor I
        have the slightest
    desire to move

I crafted a painting to
hang on that wall of yours

Someday you'll take it down
and think of me

We are crazed. Compassionately stupid in
Everything there is to be considered known

Let us gather then in the summer heat
On the blacktops above our fathers and grandsons
And run until we breathe blood, until we taste death on our lips
Then let us hold hands and take another step

Not so much vulnerability as
          wide-open hearts because
     ten years from now we'll look back at
                   where we are and note the
                                 change in what's around
                                                with a smile, if I have
                                                            ­     anything at all to
                                                                ­                 say about life

that's right.
                             We.

A thought bubbles up from my mind
Cooperation, people working together
To revive their poisoned planet
Tanks dismantled, bombs defused
Grand parades celebrating the end of war
Brothers of different races
Arm-in-arm
Looking toward the future
Instead of dwelling on the past

Planting great gardens
Of red and gold and blue
Flowers the size of houses
Symphonies shouting the music of souls
Touching the hearts of millions
Sunny parks, green grass, tennis *****
Food enough for all who desire it
A blend of cuisines from across the globe
Gracing every plate
Children laughing
The bubble turns dark
Pop.

there is no breath when
you join my world, only
snug bundles of air ******
in
   between smiles

one of these days, I'm
living here
             listen (for me) like
people once read and
found reasons to grow
another few inches

(and to know) you
are the (fire's silver)
heartbeat!

/

nobody is masterful
to the undoubtable "I
have a word for this", no
suggestion 
          someone should try

/

there is no breath, (no
pause) when you join my
world
              only a warped sense
of direction, a shift in gravity
joining, warming faces

do you feel me?
filled with verses, lost in words?

/

will we go together?

dream how the
days flame when you
join my world (and
    when you
            remember it)

I'll make it real
         someday

I write all the time.

There is nothing I would rather do, nothing I can see myself doing in the future, nothing that makes my fire burn like writing.

That being said, my writing has yet to reach the ears of those who would appreciate it. Pending my inevitable gain of transportation, I will embark on a euphoric journey to havens of people who revere this art to the level that I do.

Case and point: where I call home at the moment is full of phony faces. Everyone, with a few brilliant exceptions, is afraid for one reason or another to make their true feelings and selves known. It's not that these writers I seek do not exist; it's that they are hesitant to show their faces, for fear of ridicule?

Ridicule for what?

Succeeding in capturing fleeting moments, powerful emotions that others balk at? Confronting head-on the darkest parts of their own soul and being? Not being afraid of what will come out in their writing, so long as it is true?

There is no need for ridicule, of course.

Excuse me, I have become sidetracked.

Ah, yes.

The world and our community of Johns Creek will be immeasurably bettered when we come to the understanding that masks just won't cut it anymore.

The truth is what we need, and until this is what we get, there will be a number of horrible side-effects of our disguises.

War, Distrust, Confusion, Sadness, Apprehension.

In truth, they dissolve.

Whomever you referred to, Allie, thank them for me as well. You have great things ahead of, behind, and beside you. Never forget your potential or your accomplishments.

When it rains
You know I feel what you feel
Everything you've ever known
All your wounds that never heal

Yeah, when it rains
I feel the same
Don't let just anybody
Come take your breath away
When it rains

When it rains
You know I see what you see
All the vivid colors, shapes, and sounds
Come out and surround me

Yeah, when it rains
Don't be ashamed
You have every right to
Speak up and say your name
When it rains.

Hello!

      I mean

He
            Did you see the way she looked at him? That, that
            is either the craziest stare in the stars of our eyes or
            an indication of infatuation!
                      
                           I say, infatuation? Thought we'd done away with that long ago
                          
             It comes back in a different way however, with years of experience elsewhere
             when you end up realizing who your true friends are and how you've strayed
             from constructive friendships to chafing ones

llo!


I mean

           Hello!
           How are you?

I feel like a tree that has finally
     realized how deeply
   rooted two smiles shine, two
           smells persist under tickled eyelids, the very
                     way we exist individually but somehow
     live
          together, as if the world in all its
            wisdom has nudged in on the fact that I
                       cannot imagine my
                  life without you

Hills giving their way to
water-made soft room for
sails all caught up in fierce
wind from an old house where
we found one still-sleeping
wish walking quietly
blown down the rivers that
pumped through our
bodies now set free to
wander afloat upon
miles of
converging
unsuppressed
joy