Sat here with the clock
and its tickety tock.
There's holes in my heart
and holes in my socks.
The wallpaper peels,
reveals wallpaper from,
two decades before,
when we were still young.
Now aged with the years,
covered over in time.
Lost to the new,
lost to our eyes.
Its beauty, still present,
so I peel back some more.
Listen to records
and lie on the floor.
The ripples of smoke
swirling to the ceiling
kinda portrays
the way that I'm feeling.
Floating around
always lost to it all.
My mood just like wallpaper
can rise and can fall.

She danced
a symbolic grace
with a look of malice
written on her face

She cast a
lunatic eclipse
of my erratic soul

The Maiden
The Mother
The Crone

It was more than a phase,
just a glimpse into our story-lines
star-crossed
in our own paths
in our own way

She shed the scales
from her eyes
took me by the hand
and spun me into
a fiery embrace

We destroyed each other
but we were complete

I'm tired and don't know what to do
I wish I could be with you
And give you a kiss or two
Writing a poem is what I put my mind to
How much I care for you is something I wish you knew
And is something that grew
Not kissing you would have been something I rue
I don't know what else rhymes... Moo

No dream, big city
Drive empty passions
Destination shy

go. go. go.

No one waits.

Thirst for meaning
Empty knowledge
Knights of the dark
Jokers of the heart

Limitless treasure hunts  for meaning

The secret; Unsure

The Art Teacher

for the one whose initials mean morning

"teaching art isn't about teaching art. it's just about letting people be - letting them be them, showing them it's ok. i don't know...that's why i like it. everyone is so scared...i like to try to show them they don't have to be afraid."

~~~~~~~

writ by one woman,
an art teacher
whose young life story
is a chain refrain,

put it on me,
put it down right on me

her see
nowadays
is her sea
of nowadays nothing but troubles,
ocean thirteen fathoms deep

what hasn't gone wrong,
just wasn't worth
being put on the list

we all need someone to lean on,
so here I am,
leaning on her,

surprise!

her prize,
a strength so profound
when depths plummeted,
she curses the dark deservedly
then writes me
another poem and
her sinking ship
never goes under,
despite life's repeated
offensive attempts
to play her,
down after down

you see she gets it,
not quite rightly,
she
is an artwork,
momentarily
needy for a frame suitable,
and I,

well,
am in a museum gallery
admiring her,
for she is great
art,
and from great
trouble,
her art grows greater,
her persona painting
simpler and straighter

so here I am thinking
student minoring in art,
think she is an art,
a teacher majoring
in teaching how to be

so here I am laughing,
my pandora gremlin
does it again,
playing games,
first "Lean On Me"

and then
"Let It Be"

so let her be,
so she can teach
the art of letting us
be