the sky is on fire
at sunset

(and you want to know
why i'm sitting
on the roof

the sky is on fire

and I only dream of you

and in Tibet
the monks write their prayers
on rice paper
and climb to a high mountain top
and fling their prayers
into the wind
where they will float
to heaven
and be answered

the clouds:
violet,
pale yellows,
and pink

and you want to know
what i'm doing
sitting up on the roof

so standing
I take the toilet paper
from my shirt pocket

and the wind knows
and skyward it goes)

the sky is on fire at sunset

and my quiet heart beats only for you

the red glow of her cigarette.
the fingers of her left hand
yellow  with nicotine
clutching dying flowers

"buy a rose for your lover," she says,
"buy one for your wife. buy 2."

"the flowers are wilted."

"maybe it's your eyes that are wilted.

she had black hair
black as the night
the violent night
and gray eyes
the shade of ***** ice

"you must love
someone,
some of the time, no?
put a rose on
your father s grave, then."

"love is like lost pennies
falling from a broken jar."

she smooths her hair with one pale,
long, fingered hand, "you re crazy."

"my mom says so."

i was born to
have adventure

I followed her up the steps.

i was born to chase the night
through the forest
of dead roses.

a sky of caring
a rabbit foot on a chain

two 6 packs
3 friends

take me back to the river
by the railroad tracks

and shelly
and keats
and junior kimbrough

take me back
to the river by the railroad tracks

and the flat pennies we held
in the palms of our hearts


fall
is a forgiving season

so take me back to the river by the tracks

where the river runs
deep
and wide
and the memories have souls

...the meadow and the puddle
you wouldn't come out of

wild and simple joy

invisable to eyes, now...

I wander the meadow grass

the fields where the flowers glow
in early morning
sunlight

the fields you
only dream of
where your soul is always free...

and you come running
spectral through the mist,

I walk lonely fields

The wall
That boundary between just enough and too much
Slammed into me sometime yesterday.
The candle had burnt out and I was in the dark.
It caught me by surprise,  
And as I melted into a puddle of exhaustion
I cried out,
I’m sorry,
I swear I didn’t see this coming.

The spinning hand
of fickle fate
Will rarely land
Square at the gate

So if it do,
Set fear aside.
With faith anew,
Push the gate wide.

Every job interview
Feels like fighting to prove that
I deserve to exist.

Sitting at the kitchen table in a towel
Eating strawberry yogurt,
I wonder if I’ll leave on time.

32 minutes and counting.

She is a poem of his heart
He never disclosed
In front of anyone.

Precious raindrops tumble down
weaving nature's crystal gown

Lilting breezes stir the air
braiding Gaia's silver hair

Bees and warblers hum and sing
when the snow caps melt in spring

Diamond streamlets dance along
with their joyous sparkling song

Waterfalls in feathered white
cascade from their noble height

Winter's chains all break away
leaving life to build a day

I live on the surface now
But I used to swim down deep in the water
Where it’s always dark

I never think anymore
I just hum and buzz and click
tv static with the volume turned all the way up

I miss the dark
It gave me time to think
I had questions complexity and unrest
it is light at The surface and I can see the people
And I don’t even realize I’m becoming one of them
Much more quickly than I would’ve ever thought