They march
withered but undying
with mud
fallen sweetly on their faces.

A new sky and a tender wind
grant severance from the sea.

Haunt us no more
with your pikes and arrows.
Blend our moanings and call our names:

the sunflower,
the wind,
the moonshine breaks

a mirrored frame,
a knighted sky,
and iron cast in embroidered lace.

I lay my hopes in
a hinterland of grace/waste.

What will a soul bring
that a body cannot
in sorrow or in death?

When sentiments of corpses
hang high from windows
paneled by offense,

stars fall on broken strings.

atlantis can see
flames dance

across the milky way

i see fire
and i want you

to remember me

Memory movies
Little flickers of thought
Of what happened before
About the fish we caught
When Dad and I, together
Went by ourselves to a stream.
We spent the day together
It feels rather like a dream.

Memory moments
Of wonders I have seen
And what they have become
And what they came to mean.
Suddenly recalling back then
Someone I had totally forgot.
Some people stay friends
But sometimes others do not.

Memory music
Seemed to choreograph time.
There were songs playing then
And in a way, they kept time;
The drumbeat to life’s march,
We kept right up with the beat.
It went with us everywhere, then
In our school, home and the street.

Memory maybe
But it’s part of who I’ve become
Today compared to yesterday
Some things are better, and some
Are never going to top them
Those days of bright discovery.
So, I let those memory movies,
When they show up, come cover me.

I don't know about you but,

For me, mornings are the worst. Because mornings mean waking up. And waking up is remembering. And with remembering comes realization. The daily realization, that you are no longer around.

Silent swing
Of rope and wood
Back and forth
While a young girl stood
Silent girl
Hands by her side
Remembering the past
When the swing was a ride
Watching
Remembering
Waiting
Contemplating
If she should snap the rope
Watching it fall to the ground
A tangle of past memories
Scream with no sound
Silent swing**
Hangs still of rope and wood
To remind her
Of the times that were good...

Those **** things
lurch around each turn
as if they are lost children
who's mother is also lost
in some isle at Costco.

I know those arching
towers of rows
that hold cardboard boxes
reaching to skylights--
where each passing cloud
blinks for me
as I wander wide eye
for Costco brand cat food
hidden somewhere in the back.

*** holes are not the best at digging
but it's impossible for
my town to fill them,
as each one is a reminder
to our people
that we are irreplaceable.

That when time comes
and the clouds find their resting place
we will no longer crowd the isles
of Costco nor will clouds keep
blinking for us.

Instead our personality
will have dug it's trench
a minor engravement
into the cements and asphalt
of which we called our home.

For us they will leave
our history, appraisal
to the life that has thrived
a marker
that there was beauty
before us
and beauty with us.

A shadow lit by flitting sunlight
A scent on the air
A dream in the difficult night
Searching for you there.
My memories provide both joy and pain,
A wandering river, disrupted by rain.

Breaking its banks, driving apart the reeds
Withdrawing in a moment
Leaving endless seeds
Its force and fury briefly spent.
Your love, then and now, a storm
That takes every form.

How can I describe our love now
Without referencing extremes?
Then, once, it was more dazzling than the above
Blue fringed with uncompromising beams
Too fierce to draw near
Too intense to see clear.

It overwhelmed and smothered me
Too bright and fragile to last!
A furious, consuming epiphany
That mangled and mingled future, present and past.
I let it go, unable to sustain my grip,
I let you go.  Into the past I let you painfully slip.

I can still remember the memories that we share.
Everytime we talk, and I still care.
Even our conversation makes me feel so sad.
Maybe I already love you, even though it's bad.