Life is a continuous attraction
and war between eyes

things she doesn’t ask...

are they things,
she doesn’t know to ask,
or
are they things
to which,
she does not want to know
the answers.

my not knowing the answer to this puzzle,
drives me to distraction, her Mona Lisa smile,
accompanied by her noncommittal “whatever,”
hiding the answer, nearly leads me over a blurting edge,
but for my inevitable retreat, for the true question,
has a  truer answer, that comes as well, 
in question form.  

Why do I,


or do I,

want to know?

~For Ayesha~

for simply put,
or
simply taken,
they’re a disguise...

eternal guards on duty,
alphabet soldiers that
grow more vigilant

standing reef,
a barrier,

a thousand years to erosion complete.

this is the right poem, but the wrong words. Mystified me, how
can this be? such a young person, whose words speak to me?

If we are not our words, what will we become?

I felt the pulse
Of the early
Morning sun
As she peeked
Behind the clouds
And gracefully danced
Her calmness beat
Into my soul
As I  walked
Toward the noise
Ahead

I'm a poet
I write
for the sole reason
of writing
I just want to bleed
my heart out
on this piece of paper

Sometimes my ghosts
Come to haunt me
So I sprinkle
Out words
To form a poem
And suddenly they disappear

Feeling the dark
Side of midnight
Trying not to
Let tears drop
Upon  my dampened
Shirt
Struggling to.
Find a pen
To write away
The pain

My arms cut through the water in a
Bid to stay afloat,
And even as my muscles scream
And ocean chokes my throat-

I twist and dart between the waves
To steal another breath-
Dreaming of the moment when
The stormy seas will rest.