I long for the smell of a breeze
In the mornings,
And to breathe in the misty air,
Fresh and heavy with the sweet
Fragrance.
When dawn grows weary
And gives way to
Lazy summer afternoons
Spent in the gentle sunlight,
I sink my bare toes deep into
The warm, damp earth
And pray to become a tree:
Strong, tall, unbending even
In the most wild windstorms.
I stretch my roots to the ground
As to never forget where I come from.
I reach my eager fingers to the sky
As to always remember my plans.
Plans for a future of blissful sleep
And an eternity of drinking in the
Sun's rays as if they were
Rich, golden honey,
All condensed into a single moment.
My life, after all these years,
Has now truly begun,
And I have no other intention than to
Spend my days basking in the
Generously light of merely existing.
This is a marvelous day,
And so shall it be for the
Remainder of my days.
The possibilities are truly boundless,
For I have forsaken my hindrances
And endured my heart's winter
Only to see Spring flourish and
Pave the pathway for
Summer in all her glorious majesty
And fruitful splendor.

The woven fibers of our lives give way
And silver threads mislead our hearts and minds
We follow as our edges tear and fray
Forgetting all the ones we left behind
These tethers hold our limbs to what we know
But tie us to the ones we love and lose
What happens when we can’t seem to let go
I don’t think I am strong enough to choose
My indecision is my only hope
My hesitation keeps me by his side
My calloused hands cling to this fraying rope
And to it all my troubles I confide
But sometimes fingers slip and lifelines fail
And leave us to endure our own betrayal

My flesh grows tired.
Sounds seep through the walls
Chaining me to consciousness.
The flood seeps through the walls
To drown me in my sleep.
The floor breathes beneath my feet
And its heart bleeds in the corner
Where I dare not glance.
My flesh has betrayed me.
My mind is a surrealist.
I hear birds taking refuge
In my ceiling
Leaving their hollow bones in a pile.
If I spoke their language,
I would ask them to stop,
For I am not fond of
The sound of wind chimes.

Will she kiss the windowsills
Of my dreams?
They are brimming with the
Tears of a red water lily.
When she treads the path
Of broken glass
And leaves her blood on the pavement
As others have,
As others will,
(Oh the mess I've made)
Will she realize what she has
Forsaken?

White crested waves cascade down
In ivory and azure
On the rugged shore
Until it is transformed
To soft velvet sands

I want to lie in the ocean
Until my edges become smooth
And the salt cleanses my wounds
That marked my face
With crystalline scars
Left by fragments of dead stars
As the glass sky shattered
And every facet refracted
An incoherent light
I lost my eyes
My life
My sight
To this beautiful thief
Who comes at night
To steal away my sanity

They writhe in blackness
Clinging to vanity

You are still far away
Through smoky haze
Of northwestern streets
On avenues where redwoods once
Grew and may still through the
Cold concrete when
All my dreams lead back to you
And I have since been gone away
Through the same haze
Oh better days come so slowly
Waiting to escape to
A home in the cityscape

Among the billions of people
Living in this
Empty world,
I am singular--


Isolated.


The skies are polluted by
City lights,
Would-be stars,
If only the world would let them be so.

For a landscape so luminescent,
This oil painting portrait reality
Is rather opaque
And lifeless--
A mere lack of sensation.
We swim in milky nothingness,
A blind man's iris,
Brined in its tears
And then drowned.