Is this not prayer?
is this tool not the tool I hoped for? The pen
filled by the ever-flowing flowery ink
that re-news old knowns
left to ripen under bald and hoary heads
in stoney hearts softened by seventy years worth
of salty tears
and sad songs

"great was the number of them,
wombed ones all, who sang of the victory to be"

Miriam and Hannah, Deborah and Jael, who
retold those tales by the rivers of Babylon?

And who fueled the furnace seven times hotter,
to signal the unbelivable fourth.
being likend unto the son of god, though the
analogy seems
lacking evidence that the likeness can be reproved.
Look again.

This magi-tech converged from all the poetic,
pathetic
ethos of logo marks making proper
ification of a rythm's
un legit singin' in public,
on the corner, wit' Willie and the po'boys
beat me daddy six t' the bar---
Oh
--- those ethnic poundings on my skull,
--- send those feelings, urging, grow grow grow
--- 'til the roofs cain't hold hope in

then

hear come them ol' time thought cops,
wee gray dominees preparing dominoes for

one reason,
dominos are never stood to stand, but to fall

touching one, touching one, touching one

whisper, rest
the waiting is over, this is the time
to start all over.

I crouched by the flowers beside the dirt path
holding one gently as i breathed in its scent

I heard you call from further down
looking up, I feel the warmth of summer on my face

I stand and breathe
the air is fresh and warm
the only noise is the birds chirping along the treeline, and us, walking along arm in arm and discussing everything and nothing

Trembling walls groan.
The roaring arrival of
winters bitter scorn.

mid-autumn summer
thirty-five
(the things I know I did get right)

not ripe, ain't old
and neither young
no saint, no hero,
still unsung

midsummer autumn
feels like a dream...
so much to do
so much unseen

mid-autumn summer
starry-eyed
as wise as serpents
still a child

midsummer fall
amidst the leaves...
the snows shall come
only to leave

mid-autumn summer
feels like a song
so full of colour!
and before long

all systems go
and I - with them,
in shock and awe
to Bethlehem

midsummer autumn
-- like a stage --
what do you mean by
"Act your age"?

mid-autumn summer
feels like gold...
it cannot stay,
it shan't I hold

midsummer autumn
barren trees
at five-and-thirty
I am free

mid-autumn summer
thirty-five
too old to live
too young to die

By the river we sat,

the fish squirm below.

They remind me of speckled dirt.

A stone flies, spattering  

rings of a tree which show  

our life over the short years.



The insects that sing and thrive during a  

Summer day relish in a sun

so warm it brightens our skin

turning it deep red as the maple leaves

when autumn shows its cold shoulder.  



The color slowly hurts as the harsh winds

hit our cheeks with a slap

full of rules and stricter discipline.  

Distance is not the only thing

that grows between us.



Snow drops appear slowly, yet

I sit waiting by the river for you.

Chills form, I stand as still as the snow.

Leaving footprints of longing, I backtrack

every time I spot a piece of fresh grass

sprouting out of the blank blanket;

A new-born friend, that is very weak.

Searching for a replacement as time grows.



The river thaws, Winter ends, bringing  

Spring in poor conditions.  

Mud has encased the entirety of the water.

So thick, it is a disturbing smell, or it could

be you I think of so fondly.

Your booming voice has never been so clear;

Bringing a rain so soft,

it makes me tremble under its pressure

as you shed all my tears.

When I describe the air in the current season I never have the words to Articulate This feeling
Fall
Autumn
Harvest
All hallows
A Season To Be Thankful
The corn
ready to be cut
Or perhaps molded into a maze for the little ones
Pumpkins
Full of spice and flavor for you to smell
Or maybe just to be severed for your porch
The air
Is crisp, refreshing
When you say “it’s nice outside,” this is to what you refer
Is nippy, full
On the edge of Sweaters
     On days I have time I like to lay in the center of the field after practice and breathe
      The air restores my soul, my hope
If nothing else, I love
The air

IF NOTHING ELSE I LOVE
..THE AIR
.
and maybe you:)