Inhale and hold
The breath of this earth,
It carries another’s life to yours,
Holding what were once words deep in someone’s lungs,
Air traveling across mountains, oceans, cities,
Giving life to trees to people to trees,
Feel the essence of another,
Think about who had this breath last,
Exhale.

An invisible barrier
Gives light from the natural world.
It keeps the flora and fauna away from workers,
But gives privilege to observe.

Leaves of green, orange, red sway
in trees waiting to be climbed,
Water makes wave after wave
in each lake and ocean wishing to be swum,
Flowers grow in fields that await to be enjoyed.

How I want to throw the chair that holds me,
Make this great barrier shatter and be no more,
Free the people with computers fused to their thighs.

Let them run in the fields,
Let them freeze in oceans,
Let them climb trees,
Let them be free.

A metal frog swimming through the icy water
Words without a story
Something lighthearted
Cliché
A comet
Frank Sinatra in the background
Metaphysical relationships
Bouncing on a comet
A kettle steaming
Sarcastic bombs and sunsets
Sneaking off to drink
Future video games and bro love
Clerical errors and burnt memories
Funny people subtract lingerie
Maybe limbo
Sometimes tragedy.

I loved you once,
it feels like a lifetime ago,
but I did love you
at one point or another.
Don’t forget that.

a rose,
enriched by the sun’s color,
casts off the tragedy of red,
to bring what is left
of nostalgic warmth.

A far crying blues interrupts the silent night
in the downtown slums,
It pierces again, and again,
Changing pitch and tone
But never changing,
lesser or greater,
In patient wistfulness.

Strangers,
Spraining ankles on broken sidewalks,
Hear the distant outcry of brass
& snap fingers as they saunter
between dim streetlights,
Realizing city’s sorrows are shared
among found sorrowful.

If you follow the calls of dimming nostalgia,
Over rooftops and antennas,
The lone trumpeter is found,
Leaning on a rusted fire escape
Among higher floors of worn apartments
& thick grey clouds of industry
In cathartic meditation
His cheeks puff and blow,
Reminding neighbors
There’s good out in the world
& there’s bad,

But in the oblivious dark of night,
The roar of a trumpet can make peace
within the burnt hearts of cities
To fend both good and bad off
So only memories may linger,
& remain until swollen cheeks tire
for passion of night ceases
unto another day.