A wish in a coal mine
Rainbows yell at each other...
When darkness comes to shine
Certainly, suddenly knows when we bother

Subtle echoes of feelings
A heart has for few, a sense oft due
Made from silent charisma, a ruse in the dealings?
Of our vanity, who'se business is in adding love?

Rainbows know when to cry...
Like better asking, we already have?
Do their birds of a feather, have wishes to fly?
Wings in love, encourage mercy to save...

Integrity has taken a step...
Many and a marvel, keeping a peace
Like the sun, worshipped a lip
With a night's simplicity; is our ease...?

Each of a smile
If not the shied but true kiss, of respect
And its weary way, to another tear of denial?
Letting hope see our knowing, we know what to expect...

he walked away
with the sting
of youth
burning
a halo

noted
by those
who know
that the passage
of the years as time
makes its relentless march
is simply because we got up
and retired to bed as he did
every day of every year

and one day daffodils
were covered by falling
leaves with mulled wine
in mourning as frost waits
knowing it will soon succeed
in bringing lasting shadows to
all living breathing creatures
including the man who
saunters on by

"I will beat this," I swear.
No one else has,
as there is no end,
but there must be an end.
I'll find it.

Watching everyone spin
on their axis,
touting their progress,
there must be a someone
or some thing!

Watch me spin.
Spin and fidget.
Watch me spin,
spin and fidget.

Spin the blades
to your right.
Now you're loading. Now
you're spinning.

"I will beat this," rings obsolete.
Now, "I will secede,"
seems pragmatic.
Is it romantic to
be at one with nothing?

Cross legged on the floor,
I whisper,
to myself,
"Oh,
         you
                 bet."

When I was young, I would steal the old cassette tapes my parents never listened to and record messages for the stars. At night, I would sneak into the yard and play the recording back, hoping someone was up there, listening. It was a silly thing, really, wishing the stars a good night as though they could hear.

After you died I thought that maybe the messages had been for you all along. It takes years, after all, for things to travel between earth and the heavens. Perhaps I was getting a headstart on missing you.

Now, I know the truth. That I was a kid with nowhere to turn to. That space is a soundless vacuum. That you are gone, reachable only in the moments I press rewind.