This year
I am green and new and certain.
I am warm and pink,
Deep and soft as your crimson kisses.  
Bold as the spring wind gracing my open arms.

A day recedes,
     I'll chase down one more night
A lamed and hobbling Spring
     tries to outrun the tide
of all the misspent months
and all this wasted time

          The northern breeze sings cold,
          it sighs through tattered topsails
          sea of questions waits.
          schools of unanswered voicemails

My footfalls share the sidewalks,
                                          steady,
sure­. Still young but glimpsing old and stumbling

Walking outside
soaked lungs need some new air
I'm nervous and shaking
fold the map, don a blank stare
my days wearing on
               fill 'em up with a fool's words
               I'm saltwashed, stuck and
               peeling paint off my memory
               for now.

A day's been seized--
          a metered length of life
Can't place a price on Fall
          and can't outrun the tide
of these layered seasons
as his time unwinds

          The eastern wind comes hard
          and shreds through mended mainsails
          river of answers dried
          so ask the waving cattails.

His footfalls know the sidewalks
                                        leaking
down sidestreets' asphalt tributaries

Walking around
A hitch in his slow gait
A ghost of our town
shuffles on with a fixed gaze,
his days playing out,
               As he strides down the sidewalks
               his life plays a film,
               flashing bright on glazed eyeballs

And I'm southbound,
4 p.m. driving Orange Street
completely drowned--
               --swore I woke up in Gimli,
                Manitoba January
                seared into my youthful memories
I'm freezerburnt
                Autumn heat, don't leave me
I'll hold your hair if you're feeling sickly,
then drive back home.
                Autumn heat, don't leave me now.

                ...Autumn heat, don't leave me now.

I will write about you every day
in verses, in words, in peculiar lines.
First, about how you never left
my tiny center when
our eyes first met.
And lastly, to no end,
how you will, in that space,
(would every day for this year) stay.

I will write about you every day
and hereupon, I lay my words
in my behalf.

Hearts** were made to bloom and flower
Share the joy, don't fall to power.
Follow your path and don't lose your way.
To yourself true you must always stay.
Soon enough you'll find the one
Who makes you happy before your time is done.

Life: No Instructions included.**

Broken parts lead to a broken heart.
The say its darkest before the dawn.
Now you're left waiting for that day.
Hoping that when she comes she'll stay.
You're not perfect but neither am I.
You're pretty the way you are, so why hide?

January’s light is bright and sure;
Skipping, dancing, o’er river and moor.

February’s lamp is warm and yellow;
Prancing, jumping, like faeries so mellow.

March’s candles are orange and cool;
Autumn leaves drop into the pool.

April’s sun is starting to fade;
Slowly, slowly, trying to evade.

May’s moon is cold and bright;
Illuminating even the darkest night.

June’s glow is small and short;
So little present, so dearly sought.

August’s dawn is soft and thin;
But slowly growing from the dim.

September’s beacon is red and crescent;
Emerging from the darkness to be ever-present.

October’s star is hot and strong;
The days and shadows are growing long.

November’s torch is happy and loud;
Laughing and playing alongside the crowd.

December’s bulb is joyous and true;
It was lighted for me; it was lighted for you.

O' what sadness comes
with January.
After all the Christmas bells
have rung their final
tune
and New Year has been
cried with united hints
of regret,
a melancholy air
falls.

Maybe it is the perpetual
fear of man,
of beginnings
and the sense
of our winged lives
flying by while we pray
our oars will take us
somewhere brighter.

Or perhaps I am being
pseudo profound

Though don't you get
a summing sense of January
in the Christmas tree?

It leans bare, sadly against
your house while the
fairy lights
are packed away
into cardboard boxes

We take on the world, expecting to be taught.
Without realization that some things need to be sought.
We expect to observe and learn from the faults of others,
We indulge in ourselves & all else we smother.
Kick back, feet up, taking notes on all mistakes...
All of which are plausible, one day they may even hold us at stake.
All in hopes to prevent the inevitable,
Not even taking the time to consider if the source is credible.

The notepad is stored, somewhere in the depths of our head,
& a spark of motivation is all there is left said.
However, words can only do so much.
It's like learning of love, but never experiencing it's touch.
Actions speak louder than words, a common cliché.
Yet this quote spells out a more blissful way.

Put down the pen and start facing change.
Stop holding onto one outlet, take on a perspective with more range.
Find your footing, let experience lure.
Breathe meaning to your actions, bring life to your words.
This world can be cruel, mean, even terrifying...
A series of unfortunate events is difficult to find satisfying.
But this is where we all must learn…
Somethings in life need to be churned.
Things that can't be discovered, taught, or found.
With this realization comes a beautiful sound.
You see, happiness does not exist, it is a creation.
One we each must take on for our own, that's the only way for self revelation.

Dig deep into your soul,
You will discover new and old.
Shine light upon what is in hibernation.
Mold your own path, instead of back tracing.
Life is short, but you can make it worth while.
Live fully, find what brings out your true smile.
Hold onto the good, release the negative, & construct the best.
Eternal bliss indeed exist, it just blends well with the rest.
So open your mind, embrace your soul, & move to the beat of your heart.
You will stumble across happiness one day, but there is only one way to start.