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
stitching blitzkrieg.on the hem of my lips,i find your hardware’sshadow needling endorphinson the palate of my tongueand like these seattle storms,this romanticism comesin spurts and i ambut a failed promise.i am not constantlike emerald city torrents;i am an unwilling motherto mist’s sonbefore it growsinto a tsunamiand i’m warning you,you are not the thingthat will be floodedtill your veinsrun greyand your sclerafloods blue,but it will be me.and you will bethe collateral damagethat is leftin sodden ruins,as your throat plays oceansfor my exoneration.this was alwaysthe preludeto outros unsung.
THE WAXING MOONA waxing moon does shine its lightUpon a meadow greenTonight it be a witching nightThe likes that none have seen.O yes that waxing moon does shineUpon the grass and treesThe mist, it has the taste of brineWhat mysteries we've yet to see.There is magic in the waxing moonUnicorns they come to feedShouting laughter from the LoonHere be no ill will, nor greed.The waxing moon illuminatesAs their be fairy folk upon the knollWith a festive atmosphere createsA warming heart to any soul.A waxing moon does shine its lightUpon that meadow greenThe day now takes away the nightAnd steals away those things unseen…
this is why we struggle to sleepshe germinates,pale bud breakingthe eastern ground,silver petals peelingback the dark skyand we flip on the switches,windows reflecting bright screensas she wilts into the west.
leaving me bethere are cobwebshanging in my headbut i can't bring myselfto take them down becausesomeone thought my mindwas good enough a placeto build a home.
Of Fairy Rings And ThisYou always wear a mask,grinning, charming, and daring.I hide inside my shell,small, frail, and shy.We steal a glance as the other passes by,all blushes and butterflies,but we only touchfrom each our own side of the glass,clear and cold and calculating,glass that cuts both ways from this,along our wristsand leaves scarswhere kisses should have been.You bask in the naked glory of personae,all flash and legendary smile.I hide under cover of dark,and while away the hours, no one the wiser.And sometimes we meet in the fissures,fractures between here and there,and share tidbits and intimacy,the likes of which unseen by any,save here, in this place, wherewe feed each other crumbsand dine on hidden delights unspoken of in song,and sometimes, even now,I smile up from the luxury of your welcome lap,to bandage fingertips, caught between the gaps.
Frozen CloudsSnowflakes fall as dropsThrough fangs of ice blades,With a stare that chopsCourage and its shades.Tough, under the worstOf all that's around;Yet, in tears--could burstWhen its dears lose sound.A snow wolf fellowBy enemies--feared.For its cold bellowFreezes who interfered,To steal its precious gemWhich takes place inside,A heart in condemnOut of death, it's dried.
uprisinghe went back to nightsto buy a blue rayand her patience gave outlike retreads in Julyas she watched herchildren sleeping