I love the carnival
I don’t love butterflies or photographs
But I love the wings and faces
When they’re caught in the lights of the rusted rides

I love the way the light dances on your face
And makes amber to hold your pupils
I love the way you blur when we go in circles
The way your nectarine laugh tangs over the children’s
When the wind makes your hair a fury
And your teeth are naked in the glow

I love the ferris wheel
Over the river at night
The fake dahlias hanging from the booth tresses
The lilac smell of warm nightfall
And the cold fence wires passing over my fingers
While four eyes are hitched to the stars

I love the immortality
Like a kitten I was too afraid to touch
Delicate as a paper ornament
When I would twitch around 9:30
At the thought of my feet on the carpet
And my raspberry joints turning sour again
You overhearing the mortal in me
Became my midnight sigher

Ambrosia, I think
Is made of wet cotton candy
And the games we won

It’s made of teacups
The peer in the dark
And the way you looked into adult eyes
Older than they will ever be
And more innocent than their children
Your sneakers covered in dust
And your head lolling against the car window
With our hands touching like wind chimes
In our candlelit drive by the ocean
Your lips would open ever so slightly
When you started to fall asleep
As though you had something more to say

Man,
You carry me higher than any big drop
With your arms at your side
And when I go to the carnival at night
I still look up at the stars

I make no promise and expect no change
Yet find the need to arrange
My words upon this page with angst
Of what has become, or what has came
Upon majority of human brain
That love should leave and hate should stay
Hardened minds of mental clay
Crack and erode but never stray
From cheap beliefs that bumper stickers say
         Exactly why we're failing

From the school house frequent sigher
From the ever-flattened rubber tire
From the foot penetrated by the briar
From the sweat workers perspire
From the president that you loved prior
From the elderly man that won't retire
From a name in lights to a world on fire
Are cultivated by desire
And cradled tightly in other's pliers
          But no restraint is needed

Those who believe you can be taught
By a distant rifle shot
Stain your clothes in ****** polka dots
And leave you lying there to rot
The media lay still distraught
They knew your name but they forgot
         And all the people pleaded

But those who **** for peace will see
It's like ******* for virginity
And everyone who sees agrees
That every person should live free
Not they not them nor he nor she
Should ever be threatened and forced to leave
And no mans authority
Should enforce anyway but peacefully
And as far fetched as it may seem
It will happen naturally
And is exactly what I foresee
        And that is why I'm trying

Our speaker speaks of bombs in June
Sure to shake both sun and moon
While gentle flowers lay in bloom
From ashes cast they wilt to soon
The dull boys  wages melt in a spoon
By danger out young ladies swoon
Sovereigns sit face down in saloon
Awoken by mighty trumpets ploom
While scholars flee with impending doom
To them he says "I want you"
        But change is not commanding

You gaze upon a world galore
Both ripe and rotten to its core
You gnaw through holes that worms bore
To find it sweeter and more bitter than before
The rainy day the drafty door
Are not your problems anymore
But blood and gore and golden shores
Homemade cake and civil wars
Both exist in a world that's yours
You will find things you adore
         And that is understanding

I'm a lyer
I'm a cryer
I'm a sigher
I'm a lyer

One thing about nature is
You cannot lie.
Unlike history books in front of us
they're simple like the mind.

One might question the simplicity
that controls us everyday.
The mind means well this I know
in every possible way.

No matter who you are
or what you might have done.
I believe our mind
it is simple in it's one.

Spend some time outside
and soak it all in.
Let the wind possess you
and take it's words within.

Love is a thought
that possesses my mind.
I pray and hope every night
to find one of my kind.

Outside makes me happy
even in this winter weather.
I know I will find a man
comforting as my winter sweater.

So today I will praise this grey sky
because it is true as can be.
The birds are chirping loud as loud
and still I think about Steve.

Time waster,
Wine taster.
Covert lover,
Losing cover.
Rude creator,
Crude spectator.
Secret liar,
Limping sigher.
Companion seeker,
Slowly cheaper.
You and I are,
Rain and paper.

just waiting to move forward
when
the past gets in the way

you
stop.

the last time
He was with us,
was He listening then?

the time when I said
‘help is on the way’
were you helping?

Later after anger
it pleased me
to be pleasing to you
when those
who, being foreign,
would not care.

but they didn’t know

know me
or any of us

When we,
the sigher's
sighing
in an open vat
with an unpleasant
and ferocious
appetite

and they, the doer's,
makers, breakers and goons

hatch an escape

thence, Isaac,
the exodus will happen

just like that time
four thousand
grains of sand
ago.

Goodnight singer
Goodnight sigher
Yes even you, you little lier

Goodnight faller
Goodnight baller
Yes even you who wants to be a little taller

Goodnight lover
Goodnight bluffer
Yes even you who wants to be a little tougher

Goodnight Mother
Goodnight brother
Yes even you, you little truther

I love you all equally
and hope you all sleep easily

the stories, the sincerity, the sigher
  braided:  neither seller nor buyer
    Victor's father's salmon higher …


    
          Thomas Buildsthefire!

There's a living one, he was, he is and always will be. Waiting for the Messiah. Expecting another living one to be sent his way. Sure he would come. Cry it out loud for crying out loud. This one could not exist without a public. So he went looking for a seeing, hearing, feeling individual.

A man in a balloon just landed on earth. Ah, this one's ready, the Mess-Sire thought. Did you know the Messiah is coming? Well, all I know is that I just came down. What did you see up there? A small guy waving up at me. Oh yes, I'm small. Messiah, dunno. Could you help fold the balloon?

A snow covered girl stopped next to him at the traffic light. This one is ready to be warmed. Did you know the Messiah is coming? Phew, all I know is I got a bunch of love letters from heaven. And what do they say? the Mess-Sigher said. Hey, love letters are about love? Wanna read one?

A boy dropped out of a tree. Broke his leg. He cried out loud. Yes, the Mess-**** thought. This one's ready to be healed. Did you know the Messiah is coming? ****, mister, you mean the siren? I need some guys with a stretcher. They won't help. No? Who's gonna carry me to hospital? Eh yeah, that they do. Won't heal your soul though. Want my soul, you can have my broken leg.

The Mess-Sire, the Mess-Sigher and the Mess-**** needed a break. They entered a coffee bar. This is a mess, nobody's listening. At that very moment the Messiah knocked at their door. Nobody home. He slipped into the guise of a postman and wrote a note. Dear believers, you're never home when I call. What do I do? Land in a balloon, pop up at at traffic light, fall out of a tree. You make so much noise you can't hear.

Away and away and away
You keep pulling me out to sea
Away from the days
That felt vibrant and obvious
Where it felt safe to believe
I could be something great

I have become a sigher
The opposite of a designer
Wondering what's going on up in the citadel,
Selling myself short
Living in a privileged squalor