The mark of a true artist
is simply,
if they are not creating,
they are falling apart

I wasn't crying over the dollar I broke
I was crying over the change

I listen for your voice
on lonely, humid nights
chilling,
like tropical ice
the way you once
held me so tight
then, just let me
slip away.....

But,
what kind of
time can be told
without art?

Despite
the tears rolling
the cells replicating
the lungs filling
Do I have permission
to embrace
Joy?

I was buried
so deeply,
I fell out
the other
end

when I look up
at all the ego I have left
to climb
just to summit victory
a top of a rhyme

Find a phonebooth
jump into a cape
outrun the id
in me,
before it
escapes

Take my hand, empty head
trusted inkwell, drag me out of bed
Write me out of this blank stage
a dance of words, mark up the page
Teach me the steps, glide my pen,
from a closed position to scribe
once again

The evening sky is bruised
as scattered are the clouds
lost and confused
bleeding into the surrounding tissue
delicate deltoids

My heart can only
feel his pain
as he cries out in silence
drawing
me close
with sketches

He flicks his hand across the paper
pretending to erase,
cleverly removing me
from his field of vision

Mother and son connection
a generous gift
though, even a white lie is too rich in color to keep hidden

Breaking into his creations
The flood gates open
Here come the long lost tears

I feel them like webs filled with pulp, desire, racing to find the finish line

I am only a draft
I am not meant to feel this cold
I am not black
I am not white
I am made of my colorful mistakes and typos
I am sorry you feel the need
to delete me and start over

my genetic blueprint
is looking bluer today

better make some calls

You're reaching out to me
with words unspoken
they follow me through a
"burning house" ignited by sound
I hear you clearly
I feel you loudly
Your instrument lies horizontally
upon a table
Passionate fingers softly caress the lamenting strings
plucking a haunting melody
lingering to extinguish the lonely
cinders that dance upon thin air

Still,  the steady flow of vibration mourning the loss....

I will see you in a short while
she says, as she rises, balancing
the sunset beneath her feet
glowing,
thrusts on to her toes
reaching up
exhaling
parting a soft curtain of cloud
climbing, to enter, to explore
a stardust gate of lights

Snowshoeing in heavy rains
ground beneath is slush
Picnic peanut butter sandwiches
beside the water's rush
Resting on a hill
take a deep breath in
Narada Falls keeps flowing
as a gentle snow fall sets in

In secrets, whispers
and swirls of blushing veils
she strolls a walkway lined with
cherry blossoms
taming
the seaside April sails

inhale
open road horizon
breath taking
breaking her eyes in
a new day
pierces upon a sharp bed
of emerald blades
bleeding into a scorching yellow,
orange blaze
only their skies


provoking a rise

Only with you
can time stretch forever
where it feels
like an endless walk
circling the Earth

Round and round we go
like giggling children,
heightening our
senses to new altitudes.....

Dizzy,
we gaze into
each other's eyes,
exploring the depths
of gravity's absence

Floating,
we pass the
city's evening moon
listening for the
echoing sounds of
Saturn spinning...