I never much wished
On a fallen eyelash
Or a drowning penny,
Never truly laid hope
On a dropping star
Or a moment on a clock.
I suppose I did place
My want on one whimsical,
Liberal, fanciful thing.
I placed my longing on you,
And maybe the chance
That your wish would be me.

They say the sea
is a place for freedom,
for the strong willed
and the liberal spirits.
They say the country
is a place for humility,
for the hard workers
and the level headed.
They say the forest
is a place for mystery,
for the subtle explorers
and the quietly brave.
But the sting of the salt,
the pull of the grass,
the shade of the trees,
they haunt me so:
for there is only one place
I could ever belong,
and those arms, that heart,
have long since departed.
                                                   tsk

tick tock
rhymes with clock
and sunrise
with goodbyes
know
to go
and flow
and so
By and fly
and cry
but while heart
pairs with start
nothing, not one thing
rhymes with orange.
Poor orange.

They say
Tiptoe through the tulips
But where did they say
Smash through
The violets
That are blue
Like my heart
Or the roses
That are red
Like the blood
Pouring out.
When did they say
Make sure to crush
The sunflowers
Once golden
Like my future
But tiptoe
Through the tulips
Heavens forbid
They come to harm.

I'm fine,
I can promise you.
A million times,
I can promise you.
I will not forget it,
I can promise you.
Everything will be okay,
That is what
You promised me.
I guess I'm all right,
I mean,
I've only got a little left.

I live in the desert
Where the snow doesn't fall,  
Losing myself in the wanderings:
Endless, restless, hopless.
For there is no return
To the home I know not.
The wind heaves,
The dirt stirs,
And I remain.
There is no escape,
There is no alternative,
For I live in the desert
Where the snow doesn't fall.

                                  tsk

I could write you away
Into a million poems
Escape from your being
As you are sprawled out
On a thousand crumpled sheets
Thrown in many dust bins
Or caught under the bed
Maybe lying on the desk
Or trapped inside my mind.

Press on the brakes
Red lights
Slow going.
Discouraging.
Just across the way
White lights shine
So promising.
Full of hope.
And happiness.
A color of encouragement
and a better day.
Yet sitting, stuck,
amid a sea of red.
Let me remind you
of the most crucial
detail you forget:
Behind every white light
glows a red.
And preceding every red,
just out of sight,
is a pair of white lights,
shining brighter than day.

I flee from the masses
And fly to the rooftops
Up the worn staircase
To the confines of my mind

Within the loneliness
The ever-changing thoughts
The shatters of memories
I am trapped.

Our name is the thing
That connects us to our life.
Every event, moment, action
Of importance can be simply
Conjured by one name.
Few, simple words spoken
To become emotions so strong
And link us to a being
That we may call our own.
And though I know this to be true,
I am haunted by this one dilemma:
Why is it the speaking of your name
To which my life is tied.

No stranger to brokenness,
Outward or within.
No foreigner to our damages,
Or any type of sin.
He rubbed shoulders with the beggar,
And broke bread with the lame.
The harlot and the tax collector,
He loves them all the same.
So when you think you’ve gone too far,
Cast your eyes on them.
And know the life of Christ, our God,
Who was poured out for all men.
Don’t listen to the enemy.
Whatever he may say,
And know whenever God saves “them,”
Well, we are those “they.”

They used to say
"you make a better wall
than a window"
meaning don't stand
in someone's way
because they can't see through you.
Yet now I dare not stand
in any one's way,
and more than one
seem to look
right through me
as if I weren't there at all.