A whipped plane, plain to see with the windows up, but down, to be downed by the splendor encompassed only with this type of vastness.

Sitting for hours, silence not for naught but traversing efforts toward closeness to the bringer of Peace. The only.

Dreams are heavy, and comforting when the roads journey takes more tolls and toiling on our souls. We disregard for a while the sipped perfection from whence we came, glamoured for justice to who we became.

Trivial matters none the less, uncovered near Hermit's nest. Blessed to bless, fessed to confess.

A priest to stare, iconic to share a truth-unfair to the tune of the wind in our softened hair.

"As a child I spoke like a child, felt as a child does, but now that I'm older I fear that all's not lost." Once a brain, now to complain of a surrounding so deafened, and dream-less. I take it back; for when dreams strive in equal relation to Justice, the days of golden mussels, and embraced lovingness from our soul's longing will reap.

To be.

Would it **** if you agreed?
That we’re no more than just greed
Would it raise up the stake; if
you had fessed up all your mistakes ?
I shall love you not!
For everything you are not
But given that we have shared
The sorrows and mischiefs we beard
I learned that you are a riddle
Waiting for someone to fiddle
Through the devious games you played
I went along, with no reason to fade
Perhaps it was not your game
You’re not the one to blame
Your words.. were they true?
The effects of them, do you have any clue?
Remember the interests we had?
Of Sophie and Howl, how sad.
It has come to this,
Where I want to hit you with my fist
Remember how you strived to impress
Should I start to repress than address?
Of how hollow your promises were
Pretend all you wish, that’s how I’d refer
Perhaps you considered it just a fling
To me we were not anything
Not through the things we told
At nights I felt so cold
For at least I state faithfully
That you were the one who embraced me fully.

I have been pushed and have taken the plunge
I have tripped in the wandering woods
I have hunted and preyed in the night...
Would you believe me if I said
I Loved it all even the fight?

through blood and shed
no warmth over head
fake food for hollow days
streams from your eyes
twinkle me blue star gaze

Worn soles and old friends
Kitchen fires blurred vision
packed bags long nights
Instruments of each others
whipped delusions and delights

Did we choose to or were we chosen?
Will we be forever broken?

I've been pushed and  taken the plunge
I've been trapped in the wandering woods.
I have hunted prey in the night...
Would you believe me if I said
I Loved it all despite...?

Jump Frogger on board between wafer thin pulses
A glowing screen a familiar name, impulses
either syntax err or  Zapp Rodger pair
silicone crystal we chat via air

Space travel on hope floats to unravel
conversation R We compackable
these moments like death tolls
add up 2, Are you faithful!?
Heart (pause) Jaw (falls)

Do you mean belief in the Unseen?
Could we ever take it back?
Does Love have boundaries?

I know my emotions are supernatural
like Oceans the fish within can not feel it all
These notions Man I Fessed into the actual
better question; Is my mission honest and factual?

My answer is Yes!
Love is the longest promise you could ever break.
emotionally contractual!

buckle to the times
The young man finds a long chapter ended, awaits another
Knowing the wind blasts aught of charity
Ennui cavorts random and alienates the helper
Many trapped in posts akin to sinking, heavy blocks
Till one dash of black wave must destroy the stagnant water pool.


bye, little bird
Wish well her of shy mind on this strange and hasty trip
To impress a panel to make an odyssey out of learning
Suture memory with anticipated creme de menthes
And liars fall flat, who faltered never 'fessed
Upon big, iron wing you fly--bye, little bird.


hard**
Like a Dutch fan with the top of russet, critic to the hug
She comes from so far to meet the southern sky
A little late, but always arriving in white: trio on the green
Sturdy bedrock steadfast in the spiraling crash; salt on lips
In the clasp of beach blues, the sun shines hard.


Grownup offspring do move on, slips of life
Some attend not rushed meteors; start living.

We were poor Christmases would come and go.
But what with ten kids and my dad's Meager paycheck.
There just was not enough money to go around.
Especially for frivolous christmas presents.
I remember that year when it all changed though
so long ago.
The kids at school got spanking new
scooters and new racing bikes.
But my dad had attended a rummage sale.
At the church bazaar.
Where he normally bought our clothes.
But he struck a deal on large Hoop and stick
from the Victorian era.
It was not a bike but it was a Christmas present.
I was delighted I practiced with it doing swift turns
fast Burst down the road stopping on a sixpence.
The stick was like an orchestra conductors Batton.
I could make that hoop do anything.
I took it to school four miles away every single day.
I kept it within  the bike sheds
with all the gleaming sporty bikes.
I did not have the money to buy a padlock.
One day I went after last class to get my Hoop and stick.
And to my horror
It was gone.
I was inconsolable.
Weeping like a baby.
Then the police car came
The lady cop was sweet.
I'm sorry bout the hoop thing kid
I sobbed so badly
Stop crying she said
In an attempt to console me
But I sobbed harder.
Look it's not good in cases like these she fessed up.
I am not going to blow smoke up your *** kid.
It's unlikely to be retrieved.
No witnesses no fingerprints nothing
A clean heist.
But if it does
The next forty eight hours are vital.
If it shows I will personally
run it home for you in the squad car.
But I just wailed harder.
*** she said why are whining still?
I said  sobbing the words spurting  out staccato.
That's ...sob ..all well. Sob ...and good
But how the **** am I going to get home tonight.

These days I lay
on the bed at night
with my eyes open and bare
to think of notions that move

me to compose resolutions
too small to recall in the morning. And
when I sit here, at
the keyboard, try to see where it

was when I was lying awake
on my bed. Not sleeping but
seeing in the dark what moved

beneath my daily routined thoughts.
Things I need to think, need to
feel when rather I’m lost in oceans of vast

possibilities. I am when I lay
there and I can think of universes where
love is not lost when she is con-
fessed and I can have what I want but I

would not lie here, then.


© 2004

I have no excuse for myself, I know [ducks head]*  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXCI)


Oh! I'd forgotten wherefore aught that'd hail
Was never inked, why Tristram Shandy thence
Seemed cure enow, and why I slept fr'intents
In lieu of posting la, my work t'avail.
Yes, sleep was that fine drug which in betrayl
Washed clean the mental chalkboard in defense
Of some remote attempt at fragile sense,
Until he chose to be where--what?! tis stale.
I 'fessed at one weak moment, "I've in poor
'Scuse lo, a crush on...him."  Alas.  That'd do
Me in for keeps, left swooning as it were
When night 'gain cozened all, and whispring to
Myself, "I wish he missed me too!"  Rain's tour
Is sweet, but I'm a mess because of who?

20Mar19a