I lost my daydreams for a while.
The bounce, the charm, the myrth, the smile.
All locked within the sleeping child
That I buried deep in the wild.

And yet, my fantasies resumed.
The undecayed body exhumed.
My girlhood rose from her repose,
The bright side of life to expose.

the well is dry
i cannot collect water
i cannot sustain life

the river is swollen with toxic mud
i cannot cross to the other side
i cannot escape this

the grasslands have not seen rain in many years
the smallest spark could destroy this place
and i am awash in static

i sit under a long dead tree
and try to rest
and try to remain still

for to move is to cause a cataclysm
yet to remain stagnant is to cause my own demise

the wildlife that did not flee the drought have perished
the scavengers that came to pick apart the carcasses are gone as well

only i remain
the monarch of nothing
but bones and barren earth

I'm on the Metra today
The snow outside is teal or green
Like the Caribbean in cartoons
But here 2 ladders lean on the same tree
A lover's suicide
The coldest Caribbean I've ever seen
The church's sign scrolls by
"ght in the Lor"
And we're gone
The train rumbles on
Bridges cover bridges
New! Tower of Babel (coming soon!)
A couple thinks they're subtle 3 rows up
Michael Jackson marries Elvis's daughter
He didn't go to the wedding
There's no Jewels Osco's in Georgia
But the houses here exude the same drab comfort
A deer stands next to a storage locker
The train rumbles on
I'm smuggling beer back to the dorm
Like the good college student my mom wants me to be
I don't have my phone on me
I've never felt more alone
Or free
I explain what happened to the guy who checks tickets
I dropped it in the floorboard of my friend's car
Right before the train arrived
He believes me thank god
I focus again on what's outside the window
And now it's just trees
Skeletal and bare
The train rumbles on

have you seen his eyes?
or did the maggots get them first
when his skull sunk into dirt-

did the roots latch on and pull?
or did his body choose to dive deep
and anchor at earth’s feet-

was he wearing a crown?
or was his head scalped and dry
leaving no room for pride-

did they celebrate when his body was found?
everyone blames the one who seeks the skies
but forget they were born belowdecks-

I love to see children in session.
their lives are in harmonic transfantasia
until a conductor calls upon them for duty-

did you see which trains they boarded?
for they left in a rush
and may never remember their heartsong-

did anyone catch the conductors name?
a traveler near to a tender soul
can meld it to his very own-

will they remember home?
when the aromas return on a springs breeze
a new nose will turn away-

it won’t be long.
a foots journey will return
back where it belongs.

-for their dreams are drowned out by the whistle,
their hearts meander upon riches,
and their skulls blow away as what was good is enjoyed
by maggots
and dirt-

Hopes of a future never to come pass.
Cutting of thread leaving a trail of red.
Comforting lies, take on vengeance’s plasse.
Callow certainty leading my bloodshed.

Essence refusing change, oil and water.
Dripping maroon, satisfies my sweet tooth.
Lost track of my goal, now it's a slaughter.
Enciphered desire, immiscible youth.

As I let go sorrow’s waters -- forlorn,
See me with your purest eyes, unerring
Touch of a mother’s hand, I am reborn.
Sins, a raven’s coat, heavens are glaring.

And as I lay my vision ridden red,
How foolish to lead to one’s own bloodshed.

It takes me back
It pulls me close
To itself, I cannot leave
ln my dreams
While I dose
The summer scent of mango tree

I remember well
When we were young
My friend and I hung on its arms,
Cuddling the leaves.
Now remain
Just memories, echoes of a simpler past

The flowers promised
June was close
Summer's sins would be redeemed
By the childhood paradise
Salted raw mango slice

Overarching newborn smiles
Yellow sun on green leaves
Greenish-yellow chrysoberyl
Oasis of the summertime

I remember picking them up
From the rooftop of boyhood-life
Our winged friends came, bees, monkeys too
Attempting another bite

Fond, fond memories
Mother used to cut and bring us mangoes
While I tasted the golden slice
My granny told me stories of
The tree, it stood there when they built this house
When she was eight or nine

This fruit, this taste
Connects this land
Magnifera indica
The secular deity of the mango nation
You cannot begin to understand

The gift of Indian summer
My childhood wrapped in emerald leaves
The whiff, the scent, I transcend
Time;go to an age when all was well
Or at the least, to me it seemed

As I'm taking a bite of this season's last mango
As the golden drops stick to my pubescent stache
I remember a conversation I had

The mango tree
It talked to me
No, I'm not crazy
It was the mango tree

Little things in life
Leave something
Oh!so many memories

I want to ride upon those feathers
That cut through sightless, icy night
Or glisten in the sunbeams
And soar throughout the bright

I’d like to know just what she spoke of
When she heard it sings its tune
To hear the notes hang overhead
Ever present like the moon

I want to look within my soul
To see that same thing in its nest
That beautiful thing with feathers
Beneath my very chest

You must pray for the fickle and weak.
As we all need to make it through the heat.
Your whiskey neat burns down the branches of your chest as you speak.
Expand into a balloon, the crowd won’t bow but shake their heads.
They can not believe this tale you live, the life in a comfy castle cove.
The girls back home cry, denying all this fallacy.
Really it can not be like this, this isn’t reality.
This can not be like you or me.
We aren’t merely copies, are we?
They cry tears in the shape of rapids that carve rivers down your cheeks.
To take her to the moon will settle, remedy this pain.
So give me a few years and I’ll get you there.
For now pray for the fickle and weak as they aren’t lost, but free.