i cannot seem to discern where sea becomes sky in a serene slippery oneness of grey and pink the black fishing boats dart across the surface like birds and i feel if i could touch it i would turn into one of them and
                      fly
                               away.

A skippity hop and muddy socks
Sail boats and rain coats
Semis and dump trucks
Bubble baths with ducks
Throwing a ball I love it all!!
***** feet and a sweet treat
Firefighters and quad riders
Lights and sirens and jolly lions
Puppy heroes and horses with wings
These are a few of my favorite things

I can see the horizon.
I can see the ocean.
I can see the beach.
I can see cars driving.
I can see trees.
I can see buildings.
I can see birds flying.
I can see airplanes lift and land.
I can see boats out at sea.
I can see everything.
And yet I can’t see a future with you in it.

sitting outside in the freezing cold with some friends
talking about Disney movies and why we don't like some of them
talking about the flat earth theory and talking about being psychic
talking about how no one likes us and that's why we're not going to homecoming because no one asked
my hands are getting numb and my drawings are flapping in the wind
the teacher is inside and i tell them about a dream i had when i was 6 years old and how i still remember it to this day because it traumatized me so much
and we're just laughing about it but that dream made me scared of the ocean and boats
to this day i will never ever get on a boat and sail out to the middle of the ocean
i only feel safe if i'm standing on the shore
but all this made me realize that maybe i should take chances
maybe i need to do more things
make new friends
because one of the people sitting with us i never met
and she was really cool and i would like to be friends with her
maybe i need to be brave because nothing is going to happen if i'm always just standing in the same place, not willing to sail to new beginnings

I was told (once) that if I could only make up a perfect story, that, that woman, who stole almost everything from men, would fall for me; would, maybe destroy me and leave me for dead. Would, maybe, ship me off without my pen and belt, and force me to paint her with no training. She’d want something that resembles something by Claude Monet; Do you know how difficult that is? That’s the fun though; she’d cut me off so many times; she’d remind me how many others could paint better; she’d explain, in beautiful detail, just how useless my hands were. Well, I hope she’s satisfied with my work; I’m sorry I finished early; I’m really no man; Goodnight, goodnight, I hope you’re sleeping; so I can finally leave.

Dream
You chose to and you believed
Now look at your ship all wrecked
Yet somehow you're alive

The seas have been calm but still ruffle every now and then.
Though the ashes of my dreams still scatter everywhere each time I remem..
Her...
Such a beautiful face I've seen and it's one that's different compared to the others.

She left me though just the others along time ago.
Soon I'll be up and running again so will the others
But we are dreams who've been here in the clearance aisle

Waiting to be shaken...

In the bay fields expanse complete lake’s glimmered glance

Quiet lovers withdraw in solitude entrusting lake’s cleansing mood

Her tears drop into soft sea taking dreams noiselessly

Waterfalls haste below to autumn’s crisp ember glow

Autumn moon, subdued to me deep in clouds, winks on silver sea

Driftwood floats, water-bearer of seafarer tales

Cold winter blasts like dragons bite or sting.

Companions last summer’s thoughts gathering

Clouds clad in rainbow. Mortals gaze Master’s rays

Wild geese brush Milky Way as Autumn paints

Sea beckons me, lovely scenery. Intoxicating

Sea waves changeable, like thoughts tempest torn

Lone swan flights far in wastes of sky

Sunset drifts, visiting mansions

April showers paint sailboat, streaming blue sky’s edge

Burnt rocks white with dew soaks gauze stockings, once rendezvous

Lake Superior heaves and sighs, seagulls shriek greedy cries. Traveler’s homesick

Transparent waters, tremble, tumbling. Ferryman anchors

Shining streams ripple, cascade upon phantoms of the lake

Wind and rain pound terrain like old friends deprive intimacy

Dying grass beckons Evening’s first snow