my mason jar heart,
chipped, cracked, stained with wine,
has often been filled
with tears for those gone,
romantic picnics,
porch evenings on
swings or rocking chairs,
too many secrets,
but great memories.

insaneness
behind sane,
and saneness
behind that
insaneness
are behind
insanity

a kiss, an ember, a
lifeless seed, rises on
the breath of hope

a road is a line
with infinite points
of departures but
finite number of
destinations

a road sometimes has
flowers on the side
but occasionally
one grows in the road
against all odds

but just because you
do not stay on the
line neither means you
are lost, nor that you
are not on path

passionate vessel with scarred
canvas seeks hope since love is
never and loss inevitable

i know the taste of mud
its texture between my fingers
its acrid smell, like it
was puke ejected from the earth

why choose mud to make man?

perhaps harder stone protested

the world, cloyed in an expanse of white,
looks to gray skies for consolation

somewhere critters
   sleep, even dream,
      perhaps hope
but only humans console