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

A summer breeze
billowing through the sails
of a lone boat floating on the water.

Ripples delicately dancing from the bow,
disappearing as they roll away
into the vastness of the bay.

The sky is a kaleidoscope of colors
Red, blue, purple, and even yellow
Dancing to the west

Birds soar overhead
their cries a perfect symphony
guiding one another to shore.

I take a deep breath
the salty air filling my lungs
with an almost euphoric effect.

I watch as those bright reds
bleed to blues
and the blues darken to black.

It's time to turn back to shore
The day is done
I'm not sure if I am ready yet

It’s high time, high tide
we push the boats out


a stone   ’   s throw away


my arm gets stronger
and everything
gets further and further

To the soft strains of the sea
The booming of distant hill and
   mountain
The stars dance about, waltz in the
   night.

Where atop of a startled canopy of
   leaves
A moon like a big owl sits, ready to
   pounce
The sea rising steadily now

Inching its way up onto the shore
Giving added buoyancy to the sailing
   boats
Nestling in the jaw of the bay.

each fold i forget
my troubles.
each crease satisfies
my obsessive tendencies.

every perfect creation
pushes me to make more.
they pile on my desk
and float down.

graceful little birds
hit the ground.
little sailboats sink
to the bottom of the sea.

overflowing desk
spilling into a mess.
cannot stop beautiful perfection
as my hands move beyond comprehension.

If I had a car
I would want a’68 Ford Country Sedan
Big, huge, beastly
A masculine power fantasy

If I had a motorcycle
My fishnet legs would look so hot
Draped either side of its seat
And a highway to myself

If I had boat
I could go out
And I could float
On the water, on the lake

If I had a car,
If I had a motorcycle,
If I had a boat,
I would have a lot and lot and lot of debt

I am a Harbor
Moss-covered barnacles
govern my legs, and my back
is drenched in fog.

My wooden walkways creak,
and the wind makes me
groan with loneliness;
but life stirs underneath,
in waves.

Ships arrive at the worst hour,
full of regrets and suspicions,
and aches and envies,
and troubles and fears.

I welcome angry sailors,
the worst of all mankind,
to drink at my tavern,
and dangle their feet
off my docks, and
stare at the sea.

They look
east by southeast, north by northwest,
to home, where only
memories
return.

Some men are bustling airports;
they welcome millions a day,
and millions a night,
see them off to other skies
and do it over again.

But I am a jealous Harbor.
I keep my vessels with me forever.
I guard them with an icy peace.
And relish in the slap of the sea.
And bathe in the salt of the wind.

on the rainiest day

with his helm in my hand

the motor dropped in the bay

we raced to mainland

the pine needle raindrops

daggers to my eyes

I had to get home

but first pizza pies

Houses held up like puppets.
Pylon-wire branches spread out;
assuring the land wont drift far out to sea,
or melt into the earth with subsidence.

Cotton-wool-candy-floss caught up in cranes,
wind-whipped, white-wash, wispy, whippy clouds.

Do you remember when we waited in line for 99s?
The sky was busy with boats, the sea so blue. No, I mean...
And I had strawberry syrup dripping down my cone
and a multi-coloured sticky chin.
We watched the boats going out, coming in;
then we joined the rest to say goodbyes.

        All the hands were wagging; electric flapping.
        Water splashing up against the dock.
        The arms propelled the ship.
        Gemmed fingers dancing farewells;
        the jangle of bangled wrists;
        waving in the air, propelling the ship away
            to retirement paradises,
                          honeymoon bliss,
                                         champagne seascapes.

Always in the middle this place,
on the edge of a million-gazillion other worlds.

The rumble rattle of engines as I walk along
to look out at the reeds; on search for quiet idleness.
Leaves rustle, tickled by the breeze.
A train passes in-between;
                   on its way, on its way...
I sit on a bench nearby and hear a hum of life amongst the hedges.

Then,
walk back
with orange light bouncing in and out
of windows' winking eyes;
watching the chalk line,
aeroplane trails in the sky
cut through the blue.