I am not me like what you want me to be
        I am here like you always wanted me to be
How could I ever be me, the me I want to be

I’m tired of you, tired of crying in the dark.
pretending at the park
                - watching people talk with voices that barks
I feared it will spark an awful reaction stark
So I build an ark -
Sailed away into far,
                      far - dream land
where prejudice & judgment is not in our hands
but in the all caring higher being's commands.

Then again reality is never like that,
So I hide, I stumble, and I fall
     into the gray solace of my patience
The higher being cares, yet you need choices
to stay strong - fight and survived
                        until blessings comes along
                                and heal the dying soulful song.

© 2013

Higher and higher; my love sinks down
I lose the sun, in exchange for the moon
Day by day; it's how we'll get by
I'll dance in the rain; I'll steal your sickness
Breath by breath; I'll be so gentle with you
I want to kiss your pale cheek, give you life.
Lower and lower, but my voice won't falter
I'll sing to the slow rhythm of you heartbeat
And I know you'll smile even though you'll
Be afraid and it will break my heart off into
Another piece, but it's okay, I'll give it to
You, so you'll have something to hold on to.

Blanketed in darkness,
Mesmerized by natures nightlights
Finding solace in the shadows of the moon.
     Embracing her beauty,
     Comforted by her tranquility
     Envious of her courage

I feel the tug of the connection,
     P u l l i n g... P u l l i n g...
Silently grasping
Constantly at war
               with the rise of the sun.
               with the conflicting thoughts of flight

Lost in the moon's beauty,
Thoughts and feels engulf me
          Seeking answers
          Seeing peace
Whispers of worries quietly spoken
Solitude reveals truths

Do you look up at the same sky
                  and see the same moon?
She shines brightly to remind you,
      where the light can be,
Guidance, serenity, silent comfort.
Promoting freedom and peace
          Reborn each night.

Lover of the moon,
     Mysterious and bright,
            Holder of secrets and wishes
                   Under its light,
                            we love,
                            we dance,
                            we forget,
                            we remember,
                            we meet.

the green cloth, held
in a new wind--let the birds
come again

The day we roared with infinite jest the
larder packed tight with provisions burst.
So much canned meats, tinned, pemmican
hardtack we had stored knowing our
journey north would be sufficiently trying
that sustenance would prove difficult.

The slog.  The slacking day when you rolled
off the sled, creviced.  Your voice booming blue
crystalline as we see, no escape.  Trapped and
the cans I hurl into the hole.

Hours I read to you lipped, curled into a
snail, a shell, a crocus of yellow
a dread of
finishing the story and saying to you there is
no
more.  So you cannot tell, when the pages have ended
I make up confabulate truth and fiction
embellish.  
Pretend the story line marches
forward decades and we are in the Amazon;
You’ve discovered
that the water
that seemed
guileless is crocodile filled.
They bite hard and
you can imagine.

All primary colors on the
floes, all glacial movement, slow to melt, fast to burn through
the colors of our arctic rainbow.
I had primed the lamp the last night, before that dawn, before
the ride in which you fell.  
The wick trimmed and each
consequential action of the day I placed
hanks of hair
neatly side by side into banks of snow.  
Under my cracked tongue is
a bump that rolls
mole like cyst.  

Partner of my travels to this cold realm, your self shelved.
Below:  Did you hear me whisper?  Asking why today
have I become.  
The whispered promise of holding
upright against the dark.  I thought.
It would be magnificent.  

Not even fanfare.  Or aurora borealis.  Or flight.
Yes dreams of flying.  
Yes dreams of ahah so it is after all.
I thought I would recognize the moment of unleashing.  
What makes the special now?
If I whisper Abandon I might hear you echo in the ice.  I might see your
boot, attached to.  A glove alone, unpaired.

The story they lived, the story they tell is one of each husky,
one by one, no longer.  Starvation and then there are none.
But we are in the Amazon, and it is a scorching hot day and there is
much to be explored until you fall into the river and get bit.

I take it all back.  
You laugh because I add flying monkeys which is
us pretending that we’ve explored
this terrain which looks like a bed
in a room and a chart.  
They cannot
stop your bleed, and so we begin again.

Winter anticipated the night and the stars
And I walk immensely immersed in them.
If warm lighting reminds me that I exist,
The sporadic lights on the cars think I still persist.

After all, only the stars trigger the act of dreaming,
In this journey traversed by nostalgia
Of all the contemplated heavens I've ever dared to wish.
The cold road is the only way.

The life, which I thought I knew, was made in fleeting hours,
Somehow I need to go where I really belong,
That place of latent presences so often felt,
Behind my mind.

Home is not about a place, it is a feeling,
That suppresses the urge to wander indefinitely.
Although knowing that reality it´s falling apart
I'll go home.