nubthousands of wasted wordsand still no poems
lovemy joy in you was short livedmy sorrow everlasting
the open roadthe road beckonsand I will answerI will ride Highway 65until my gas money gives outand leave my tired Buickin a soft ditch with the kudzuI'll walk until I finda place that touches me a soft patch of cool grasswith a view of the whole big sky a quiet placewhere I can lay myself downand no longer weepwith wearinessthe stars will shine downfrom the sea of nightand I'll smile whenI close my eyesknowing I can nowrun onforever
Tank Away 11The winter solsticehas passed. Winter nights will shorten,hearts warming with hope.And from the soft, hushed darkness,a new sun begins to rise.
running errandsit's not theeggs or milkor breadthat I'm afterit's the soundlonelyis quietand whenthe silencescreamsI mustfill itwithother people'snoise
dreamerhe's goneever searching forgreener pasturesand she droopslike a flowerin the rainwaiting againfor hisreturn
incalculablehe's good to mewe eat at nice placesand never arguehe's gentle in bedbut he isn't youwe lived onpeanut butter,ramen noodlesand the world fadedwhen you cameinto viewdisappeared utterlywhen you took mein your handshe loves meyou almost killedme with your leavingbut if you roared backinto my world tomorrowhe'd be forgotten bythe time we reachedthe highway
lightlesssince you've goneyour memory lay upon my worldlike a shadow across the suna point of impenetrable darknessfor which there isno remedy
revenantsome nights,dreams aren't enoughwhen the acheruns deep,I need more thanremembered embraces,imagined trysts,more than hopesof tomorrow, next week,next yearI want the truthof your bulkbeside me whenI turnin the dark,the realityof warm skinnot my own,the unknowingof lonelybut you're not here(and no one else will do)so I willtoss and turnin the cold armsof my dreamingonce more
BeholderI will stroll down moonbeam rowthe stars my guiding lightswith each step my dreams will growfar beyond this nightI will trace the universeconstellations in my handinfinity preserved in versestardust turned to manI will walk the morning sunto the edge of the very last raylet it fill me breath to lungI will shine away
Storm CallSeasong carriesover water, awaySailing the windTo the end of daySurrounding soundHigh fidelity, hearkenA weather eyeSensitive evenWhen autumn skiesDarkenDistant thunderRestless wavesClouds scatter and fleeThe nightStarless,Breathless,Pressure buildingThe pauseBefore taking flightBetween here and awayThe moment stretchingThe pause between breathsTaking lifetimesThe calm that comes before the storm...Ocean already tugs at the lifelines.A whisper of cooler Atlantean airPolite warning… The storm comesFrom the breath of susurrationTo the thundering wave's drumsInexorably now, it comes.Caught up by horizon stormsThe shore beneath you disappearsThe sea provides fair warning.And from the savage night — Full-throated furies howl and rage — Emerging, battered,Fragile, shattered,High and dry by morning.Cast up by the seaStrange creatures and mysteriesLeave beachcombers to wonderBut what the sea providesThe storm-surge yie
Painting the SkyMother Nature:Effortless in her grace,Flawless in her beauty,The world a canvas,With her palate of infinite color,Any method or tool at her disposal.She is the master of pieces,The composer of ancient lyric,The writer of every story,The artisan of all trades.She paints the heavens at dawnWith hues of violet, orange and rose,And strains the clouds on the horizon.The rising sun’s light reflecting off their surfaces,Cascading vibrance onto the weary eyesOf those in slumber, and those awoken long before.She calls the birds to sing the melodiesKnown to them by heart,And as they face the new morning,They bravely sing the intricate verse,A language all their own,But one that all are blessed to hear.She takes her brush and streaks it across the clouds,And carefully flicking the moisture down to earthShe adorns all things with the finest crystalline water,Dew covering the grasses,The weaving of spiders,The flowers untouched by crude hands.She gently blows a sin
ForgottenBlot the fetid spews of AutumnEvery blossom once soft; Now rottenVegetation once lush; Now soddenSwallowed by earth; A promise solemnAll those fallen will birth new pollenEach lives on; be naught forgotten..
NaiadI am of the tall kelp and hard cliffs madeI do not bow, I do not breakI am coldness, I am hungerNo one is older, no one is youngerMy soul is pure yet deep as the lakeInto which Bedivere returned the magic blade.If you find me hiding in the reedDo not be frightened by my blue-grey faceMen who come wish to cover me in dressesBut I’m fine, my dignity saved by my black tressesWomen may leave an offering of delicate laceOr gold coins, as if my hunger is one of greed.But don’t come too close to the water brinkI am the guardian of all those who sleepEternally in seas dark and rivers wildI embrace every spurned lover and unwanted childAnd drag them down, for my sisters to keepClose to their hearts, their blood to drink.
SuprasolarWe call it the Local Group,this, our neighborhood of galaxies,in which only a single staramong billionsis even remotely reachable.And we tell ourselvesto dream big.That hard workwill get us there.But on the cosmic scaleour collective capacityis nothing.For every star in the Milky Way,all four hundred billion or more,there is a galaxy.Even the Local Groupis nothing.Yet since dreams are orbitalwe hold our breath to reach them.And when we perish in the vacuumthe stars still burneverything that matters.
Cloudy DesiresThe moon has fled andthe stars are hiding behind a curtainof black,as the clouds above scare them awaywith their whips of lightingand their thunderous voices,shouting angrily at the world belowas the sky above remains unreachable.But then they start rainingtears upon the broken earthand you see that the clouds weep for life,because they too are broken whenthe sun comes out in morning andburns them awayfor the night comes back to life latershining strong light upon the world withgentle silver light of the unreachable.
True BeautyTrue beauty comes fromyou're inner self,Not makeup.
each autumn is another springautumns where every leaf isa fumbling wildflower andevery deep sunset where colours bleedagainst the horizon,pools of melted copper andshreds of cloud like glittering morningdawns:i hope you realise how eachautumn is another springhowthree blackbirds fly across painted skies,tearing up the dust ican still taste the peppermint the sugarhills and every midnight, dandelions theydance in my chalice ofchipped china coffee mugs.whilst islept, bluebells, baby crocusbuds swept apeek round my doorway andI didn't prepare for a drenched bouquet ofsilk netted soaked morning lights onmy doorstep wheni'm still dreaming of circledstreet-lamp hues as soft as whispers thathang high above thedew drops in the air-come take me there.
Rise and ShineRimmed in darkness,the sun edges overthe horizon and shakesoff the remnants of night,a bright orange plate ona dark blue tablejust in time forbreakfast.