am I a poet
or am I just deranged
words tumbling out in senseless sequences
always chasing after something
anything really that has no purpose or meaning whatsoever
this blankness is what I am after
anything else is just too predictable at this point

Sounds dreams art form
In age norm- brainstorm
Wake -up alarm rainstorms
    Carmel Clouds
Barking noises and hounds
Chasing to be found
     Sandstorm

Monstrous- snowstorm

Dreams to heal
In uniform
Please no harm
love embraces  
Chasing the wrong faces

Gazing- engaging- singing
Dreams touch a nerve
Reacting jump ringing*
Chasing and saving
Memory of words
Wild child-hummingbirds

Floating in the air taps
No time like a normal nap
The cell phone pictures
and apps
Chasing big stir coffee sips
Valuable time trips
Chasing our dreams

Is real what it seems?
Lips* met* the *sunset
Eyes water love just met

Chasing- raging- event
Lullaby Lighthouse
Does your dreams make any sense?

These years, they ask us questions
answers that tomorrow never knows,
held in the arms of yesterday.
The weight of this dreaming
pushes the clouds onto the ground
and our fleeting conversations
with this flooding rain
breaks the boats we built
that were already too unfit
for this ocean between the clocks we build
and the time we chase