How am I to say such vigor
specious and amorphous and astringent,
effacing a landscape called yesterday
soon after some shut-eye,
then the jive suspends with
a dissonance creeping in coda
as the overture falls through.
If the clock is right or it feels wrong,
mono-tempo takes over anyway.
Now I see it when looking back.

Enchantment hedged a garden full of lush lives
that I didn’t even know I could ignite
until the season shuffles.
Had I hit my stride? Yes
I keep my head up, but No
I'm upside down, from the outside in.
Clouds that we glided by
are dropping through my hands like sand.
It left me hovering around a layover of sentience
less itinerant than fugitive,
brittle memos that
are in no ways oblivious.
You don’t know your words engraved but
I do.

Hold your secret, soft and deep,
While silent, watchful thoughts you keep.
A human ear, though kind and dear,
Might let your tender whisper hear.

Go to glass, so still and bright,
And pour your heart into its light.
It listens close with silent gaze,
Through all your hidden, winding ways.

No judging word, no sudden sting,
Just quiet truth the echoes bring.
If sorrow blooms from what you find,
That wound is only for your mind.

Are you really doing it this time?
This time, are you really going to leave me,
Because I need someone who deserves me,
Who treats me better than you.

I don't want that,
I doubt you do either.
Please don't follow through,

I need you.

September 2024

few love to sing our Anthem,
almost demanding an operatic
persona, a skilled voice, capable
of great range, but it is a story,
about one man’s imprisonment,
and that phrase:

”Through the perilous fight”

always reminds,
even in peace,
we are forever,
engaged in battle
to be a light among the
nations, a shining example,
and the perils thereof
when we err,
mistake the,
of course!
of
our truest course,
and go adrift

but!
look around,
many, not few,
placing their hand
over the heart,
words reciting,
that’s how I
know, we
yet, still,
want and pray
to be a great nation,
a light unto the world

I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate,
I already pulled at my hair.
“It’s normal” he says
I swear just to debate,
cause he doesn’t seem to care.

And I’m bleeding through
my scar tissued skin,
the layers only grew
still I find a way in.

I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate,
I’ll be down to the last strand.
Check or fold the plays,
the cards aren’t that great
I’ll be down the my last hand.

And I’m bleeding through
my thick nice sweater.
It’s a shame as it’s new
and we’re reaching the cold weather.
It will stain the soft fabric
I may just grab the bleach,
but I always made it a habit
to always keep it just out of reach.

I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate
pretty soon I’ll be bald.
On hot coals she stays,
though she shifts her weight
and watches her soles scald.

And I’m bleeding through
my clogged and blocked pores,
and the remaining few
are becoming septic sores.
I’ll shed another layer
of a non-protective bubble,
and my hair will continue to get greyer,
I think I’m now in some trouble.

I want you to know how I feel
but my words don't reach the extent necessary
to let you know what is real
that I want to be your emissary
but I act so wary
like an actuary
with a knack for staring
judging passing cherries
as cassowaries.

My frustration grinds through a mouthful of teeth
because of the fountain of heat
that lies beneath
my sword in sheath
melting through its protection
bleeding from the rejection
of your outward inflection
thwarting this coward's intentions.

I miss you but I don't even know you
I want to kiss you and hold you
but the issue to that bold move
is that I don't know if it'd go through
like Father Time's sand
passing through my hands
******* I'm an old man
from your cold canned gold jam
I'm sold bland then soul slammed
by Conan
The Barbarian
in my solarium
solitary terrarium
where nary a sum
equals more than one.

Images we hang carefully on the wall,
hung carefully so it might not fall.