I can't help but wonder
When toddlers trip and blunder
How we managed to ever survive

In their noggins the make
Of the brave Sir Francis Drake
The rest, accidental suicide.

I found you again today.
In a box
I almost threw you away,
you know?

Buried in a bunch.
A mess of high school calculus
And little lost ideas.

Purple words,
Dead words. Love words now withered, Like bandages about a corpse.

You can't heal the dead ya know.

I guess even the richest king
Must end up in a tomb.
Mouth agape in frozen complaint.
Covered sadly, with golden futility.
By those who knew him so little.


But, it spoke as it always did
Simply and impossible to ignore.
Like sand in the eyes.
Like your eyes.

Reminding me of old foot prints.

Reminding me of me
When love was so singular,
Easy and yet.....

It oiled my rusty smile
Enough
To kiss you good bye

Again.

The center seat stinks
can't move my knees, crushed and hot
such a landfill spot

Oh please play a while
and turn my blood into wine
bards of weary smiles

Hey,
I dont really know you
But I've seen you everywhere
Always miraculously
Walking in the rain.

I know you feel
Like your the only one
With real problems
And that it somehow
Makes you feel special

I know your father died
I know you did too
And you've been haunting life
Like a little grey dream
Ever since

I know that you think
The least of yourself
And that maybe
You aren't worth the time
To understand

But you talk anyway
With your eyes
With your lost shoulders
With the subtle smirk
And a lazy three fingered wave

And so I listen
I know you need help
With the shattered bits
The lines on your wrists
But you won't ask

And I sure as hell
Won't leave you here.

Sketch your love for me.
She produced her stencil box
fresh with only three.

Seeking the humblest
of answers
To the grandest of inquiries
on the outside

by looking
in the deepest reflections
of what makes us worthy
to be called human

on the inside

I see this space, unraveled eyes.  
The tight ropes that sing when plucked.
The wisdom embedded in the halls of failed yesterdays.
The smiles that preach endless laughter
to the unsuspecting mourning soul.
Falling sparks of ever winter moonlight
beckoning all who see

not for greater glory, ambition, or power. 
 Just the wisdom in old tears, the wealth of blood, the anchor of friendship, and the honor of holding the future accountable.

Where may I roam,
that the bullet graze
across my hunched over heart
will cease to glow hot
fanned
By the lonely headwinds
of what new lovers
used to say.