We take time
to read from our wisdom books.
We ask questions,
pausing to think
before we speak.
We tell stories from our journeys.
We laugh,
tears on the brink of our eyes.
We speak from the tulip bulbs
of the gratitude
about to spring from our *******.
We sigh
upon the fruit
of this interlude together.

on a Friday night
no matter where you started out
you always ended up
for last call and

the unexpected was expected

you might find a line
on the women's room sink,
the bartender dancing on the bar
tequila in mouth
a lit match
then spitting flame

maybe
some guy pulls a knife
so the other guy shows a gun

satori's abound

beach day in January
300 pounds of sand
and a sand castle contest

crazy George swings
from the wooden wagon wheel
light fixture
and the lights flicker off and on

and the desperate and the dying
lost in want

appear and disappear
pop in and out of existence

dead
then alive
dead
then alive...

our cards are spread
and the joker card smiles

no search for meaning here,
the ****** return the dealt card's smile

we are the wolves and the lambs
no saints here

and no matter how you acted or what
you did or owned
who you hated or loved
no one was ever was bored

so alive for the fleeting moments
of Last Call

a random freedom of sorts
seen in a wink of an eye, heard in a sigh
the kind of freedom
you only experience
once in a lifetime

folie a' plusieurs.

My bare feet bled on sands untread,
Leaving fragile imprints in pursuit of love long dead.

In the forest black,
Where Grimm tales stand alive,
The sun shines upon the forest floor.
Covered in the dead
Rotting to feed life,
An ode of decay that smells fresh,
Of pine, oak, lavender and elderberry.

Late summer kisses the leaves,
Leaving a brittle leaf,
Fading yellow and wishing their trees sweet release.
Tall massive trunks reach out to the sky,
Like children asking for a parents embrace
How they creak when the sky ruffles them with breeze.

The mushrooms feast,
Offering those who dare to stop and eat,
A host of certainties,
A full belly, death, or a visit to divinity
An ecstasy of colorful soliloquy,
The forest gods smile you see.

Willow leaves, twisted vines
And whispering trees
Sing of Fall and Spring,
Knowing their ghosts will rise,
Come Allerseelen the forest will exhale,
With misty tide,
Cyclic rhythm will beat
Of death, life, and all in between.