i pause in the west
with gas pump in hand
feeling the sand kick up
against my white tee
and the wind whip
my coif of bed head
staring off at the frosty white heads
of sentinel mountain peaks

would that she could see these
floats across the fluid of my brain
with a metal clang the pump
announces it has belched its fill

would that she were here
follows slow and somber
with printing receipt

another chance
begins a rainfall in my mind
that will not cease
until each inch is soaked

I GOT KANYE RUNNING THROUGH MY MIND LIKE IT'S HIS JOB




that's all.

specifically "Bound 2", at the moment.

Running through ancient Appalachia
Frolicking without a care
She had never felt more joy-
Never felt less aware.

As they followed the waterfall trail,
There was no time to spare-
Time was irrelevant,
As they were breathing in clean air.

Treetops swirling into one another,
Breeze slow and soft,
Sweeping salty tears off of her cheek-
They were lost.

Lost in their own minds,
Nothing left to exhaust.
Inspiration was the mountain peak-
Floral scents aloft.

Driving in a spiral
Down the rugged cracked road-
They pulled off to the side,
Anxieties and heart rates slowed.

There they found two cement half-
Pipes peering over the mountain side
They climbed down, sat in their grasps-
Contently contemplating their lives.

She turned to her love
To ask what he was doing.
He said “writing down ideas”

There, she saw her fate.

I see that pretty rising of that pretty sun ,but                                                        I often don't see its sunset ..                                                                                      That sunset always happens                                                                                    When I am not there ...                                                                                           I love that sunset ,but                                                                                               I am not often there ...........                                                                                      Some skyscrapers hinder that pretty sunset ,so                                                     Some can not see it ....                                                                                              That pretty sunset happens everyday and                                                             I rarely see it ....                                                                                                                   ____________________

The sleet is drawing boxes 'round
our mud-and-snow sashed towns.
We'll check 'em off
                      with crunching footsteps,
slash our gallows grins through static
weather. Nervous laughter fights off winter
while somnambulist nights
                    hold the anthill days at bay.

And each repeated conversation
coats a thrumming undercurrent
echoed by the groaning rivers
in their arthritic fatigue.

     where the ice piles up
              like car wrecks.

And, out of those disastrous angles,
     jumps up and trips back down.
          Blinking eyelids, right then left.
               Sunrises. Sunsets.
Dusks and dawns in places familiar
wading through liminal space.

Circles darkened. Footprints filled in.

The heat just circles lazily.
Our flushed and clammy brows
will **** askance
               and sweat while footsteps
melt our swaying way through boiling
sidewalks. Nervous laughter dulls the impact
of seared, rapid fire nights.
             "Ha." "Ha." Shrug off another.

And all repeated reminiscence
does is hamstring overthinking
of the closing jaws of traps
in these rusting western towns.

        where winds breathe dust
                by mouthfuls

So, into our familiar mishaps,
     ***** up and falls back down
          melting into neighborhoods
               dress down, upbraid us.
'Til our feet do not walk circles
'round these wilting Western towns.

I live in the East
You live in the West
I roll to the right
You lean to the left

You watch the game,
I text my friends for fun.
You write every day,
What awaits me is always unsung.

I'm one that loves vanilla
While you prefer your chocolate
You live life in the open
I tend to close and lock it

I like the night,
You await the morning.
My sunsets, purple and pink,
Your sunrise has orange hues adorning.

I'm early to bed early to rise
You never seem to close your eyes
These days I'm moving rather slow
As you're always on the go

You have your coffee with cream,
I have my Kombucha tea.
You grill up some steaks to eat,
I say pass the salad to me.

Though we're miles apart
In differences between
Commonality we definitely
Have in our love of poetry

I am torn in half.
One piece to the East,
And the other to the West.

The East a world of peace, There
I live in confidence of your promise.
I see Joy.
I see Love.
I see it there...You.

The Wild West, a place of confusion, There
I see Hurt.
I see Disappointment.
I see it there...You.

Someday, the two will be one.
They will meet in the middle.
I see Conflict.
I see Resolution.
I see it there...hopefully it's You.

Saturday night I'm staying silent for men who think they're clever. Congregations of children with nothing better to do.

Echoes of our Hallmark love is now in transit with this big hero almost ending. The door slams and puts brakes on our Big Finish while each coin is reprimanded.

For every hour of school you miss a pizza's abandoned. Breaking waves on my shoulders, I never imagined you'd be the one to expire in my California.

Charlie waits for us in the airplane, while Thomas and Callan still chat. You purse your lip and bite on your fingers, but you don't realize that I remind you of guilt.

Anguish and islands, stars on the inside's of your eyelids.
And blood in your underwear.