i need to leave
this place of mine
land of eternal sunshine.
i must get out
as the free men shout,
lest my imagination be bereaved.

so i travel to the banks
of the Mississippi and sing softly
the songs of Hughes and Wheatley.
i travel to the shores
of the Atlantic and hear cries upon the moors
of Pope and the Bard, ships who sank.

but i hesitate at the grave
of Da Vinci in le Val de Loire
and think of my final hour.
i hesitate at the end
of a journey well spent to contend
that life without love one cannot save.

carry
your memories
in a glass box.
read
your thoughts
aloud and shout.
throw
your ideas
without regard to gravity.
help
your hands
to feel unknown shapes.
open
your mind
to the infinite and
truly it will be,
your soul,
free.

there is no greater joy
than conversing with a stranger,
completely bereft of
inhibition and
experience;
there is no greater joy
than conversing with a lover,
completely sure of
trust and mutual
fragility;
there is no greater joy
than conversing with the wind,
completely sound in
your mind and
thoughts.

solace; We
took it from our parents
and the time We
never had to spend in
sadness; We
thanked no one for
it although such luck
was surely not from ideas
suppressed; We
lived and wasted that
life on the paltry
which We thought without
struggle; We
believed in ignorance
and reasoned through excuse
that We were beyond
such; We
are the inheritors of
the world and yet We can't
claim one bit is because of our
success.

my soul breaths.

it rises and falls as the
red tides do
on the western shore.

my soul breaths,
just as the leaves
of the deciduous must
redden and fall.

my soul breaths,
the songs of the lonely
mournfully
whispered over the piano.

my soul breaths.
unique.
inevitable.
longing.
universal.

trust me* she assured
in the fading glow as though
trust came tied with thoroughly tested
knots intertwined with love.

hear me she pleaded
as the past abruptly revealed
itself in the present and communications
became pantomimes in the dark.

help me she screamed
to the night stars who shone
glowering at her lusterless attempts
to be elevated and live.

hi, its me I whispered
to her as the sun crept through
the morning curtains and caused
her smile to glow.

I read somewhere that time
          or their time or her time so
      this magnificent quote, i thought
  was not the same to any one person
    and when i came across
            i should take my time
        how my time was different from your time
                  caught on a crisp autumn breeze and no more
                slip by the most fluidly, scarves
              and live for the times that seem to
                    subject to time than am I.