If you look up
Is it there?
All I see is air
Why do I raise
my arms up
hoping that God
hears my prayer

Is it some kind
of wicked game
we play ?

I never dreamed
I would meet
someone like you

What a deception
fast of feet
What a reception
so incomplete

I raise my
empty hands up
asking God
"Where is my love ?"

I care not
for the age I am

Too much sand has past through the hourglass
gram after gram

. . . . . . .

Wishing that I could
turn it around
But time has the chapters of the book
locked-strapped down

. . . . . .

Then after I fell
from the tree and
hard-thumped the ground

I stood up and I looked sheeplessly around

"Egad" ! I said with a reluctant scowl
I care not
for this moment wiping the pain off my brow

. . . . . . . .


Now that the salt has
turned blue steel to rust

It leaves me with thoughts that I find just disgust

. . . . . . .

The temple crowns . . .
snow white in disguise

The truth is affirmed
inside reside all of the lies

. . . . . . .

So many things
I care not for . . .

Seems like the list aquires
daily
more after more

. . . . . . . . .

The burden's great that holds me down

The elementals of time
have shackled me to the roots in the ground

. . . . . . .

Yet I set sail to sea
with one set of sure-sails

knowing there's hurricane force winds
and tempestuous gales

. . . . . . .

Just one more thing I care not for  👇

"I'm just another mouse that wants to hear itself roar"

Letters not sent
Words untouched by hands,
There is no softer gaze,
Opening radiant ways
With rapid pulse of breaths,
In spoken sentences.
The invisible margin of lost attention.

I saw unsettling light,
The sun glinting on the window,
An ordinary building across the street
And an elusive, surreal reflection
Of a blurred sphere, not giving warmth.

I stare at this distorted image,
Wanting to endure it directly,
Longer than I could bear,
In a motionless pause
The side effects of this manifestation.

My eyes were slightly closed
To hug the contours of an unclear shape.
The luminosity from a distance
Safely stays at a fragile layer,
So as not to freeze and not to burn
Before the piercing, conclusive truth.

Being for so long and perfectly alone.
So many hours punished by the silence,
The long days in tamed anger,
Waiting for relief,
All those good wishes in letters were never sent.

The gleams turned in the blunt, painful light.
Just two living spheres and a clear, cold glass
In the ocean of rigid duties,
A star’s slow implosion,
Reshaped colorful memories, grasping at remains.

The vivid balloon with the air gone—
No longer flying above our heads.
Nothing else, just indifference that forgot
How it used to cry.

Sitting in a dark room
with dark thoughts
like the darkest clouds
occupying my mind
feeling lost for eternity.

No flicker of light
to be found.

Will the sun rise—
rise again, just for me?
to show a new path,
towards a new horizon.

The lonely winter isthmus,
Of Hough's Neck rocky shore,
Walks in great yellow trousers,
Amongst the laughing seagull uproar,
The lonely early shorebird,
Who would like a sea worm,
But spears the unlucky green crab,
Aside from his great yellow legs,
All is overcast over brown kelpy drab.
" ME-AND-MY- SKINNY-LEGS,
ME-AND-MY-SKINNY-LEGS,"
Is his sad winter song,
Amidst the dead body armor,
Of a mussel long gone.
He glances back to the smoking chimney street,
In its hungover sleep,
So lonely is the coastal town,
When the wind howls the temperature down,
And the white caps are viewed only behind kitchen glass,
" ME–AND-MY-SKINNY-LEGS,
MY-SKINNY-LEGS,"
If only the lonesome shorebird could hear,
Doing the dishes, pouring out some beer,
" ME-AND-MY BIG-****,
ME-AND-MY-BIG-****,
MY-BIG-****."

When you laugh

It is waking at night
Beneath a waterfall

Seeing clear through
The veil

To a multitude of stars

Sacrament of an autumn park:
yellow wafers on green tongue,
blowsy refrains of early dark.
Head spilling and heart sprung,
I step across these broken shields
to a new-faced evening street
under clouds with bruisy weals
that peel, reveal white meat
of moon, sliced thin to eat
& maybe sate a null that gnaws,
a null that was born when I was:
a branch is incomplete
until the last leaf falls,
transfigured into scrawl.

A beautiful quiet night,
the moon was shining bright,
stars twinkling all around
in a cloudless sky.

Moonlight fell upon your face,
it too began to shine—
like the brightest of stars.

I stared at your moonlit face all night,
from afar,
wishing someday you might be mine.

Though I know all too well
your heart longs for another,
I will not stand in your way of love.

Yet I will keep on loving you,
for my heart
will always belong to you.

the night whispers the black water fall of ashes
that bloom into the sparrows of sorrow...


the sorrow sparrows are back again
sitting in the tangled woods of twisted trees.

Van Gogh heard their voices
bouncing off love's walls.

the sorrow sparrows are leaning into me.
my sad eyes, dream of you brother.

I lean into the soft lit room
searching for love's quiet hours,
with sunlight flickering through willow trees.

"don't cry, darlin," my wife whispers.