Possibly...

There really are no lines
When spaces and things
Are just
Scrunched up atoms
That make up my couch
The hard wooden floor
 - well, it's not real wood, but, whatever -
The air full of them
Farther apart
and unseen
And everything breaks down to the same basic parts
That can combine
To look so very different

But of course there is my perception
Crafted by these very pieces
The same particles
Like in dust
and bedsheets
and lemons?

And then there is my existence
My being
A soul?
Just a little something extra.

The World Around

All the people come and go
All that I will never know
But a few who wander through
Some for but a glance or two
Others stay, more permanent
Though out of sight I will invent
Their thoughts and woes and daily chores
Never to be writ down in lores
So many lives that flit away
Others last but for a day
Races, jobs, countries unknown
With pets and friends, trash and throne
Tongues and tales and customs varied
People joking, people married
Before, during, and after me
So much existance I'll never see

Underwater

Everything muted
Cloaked and covered in flowing liquid
Floating in - suspended - weightless thickened space
Sound sealed from the air
And yet the clarity of each reverberation
Made within
Strikes the ears, piercing, louder than without
A wrench taps the tile
A hook scrapes the side
Shouts escape in bubbles
And the one in this womb
Watches the patterns of light

Oncoming Season

Thick flakes puff and billow
Rosy noses and frozen eyelashes
Bundled layers knit for warmth
Heating that brings to instant boil
The human that works to adapt
Yet loves the beauty of blanketing white
The fun in the games that we play

A Life

She was my candle
My glowing light
Her warmth drew me and eased my heart
Her skin a pale and luminescent tallow
Her spine graceful and straight as a taper
Her core, a wick that drew everything good
And held the flame
Light and lively
Entrancing

Now smoke grey curls around her face
Her skin has melted and sagged
These lines and hanging beads
Have made a pattern of life unique
And beautiful to behold

Her flame sparked, grew tall
It flickered and danced
Her smooth body eventually
Dripped and shrunk
Dead, her body cools
Released from her energy
Her heat
That she gave in life, continuously
Now part of the world forever

Anticipation

Feather light, in your chest
Quickening your pulse
and steeping your breath with weight
Excitement and nerves and heat

Anticipation can be enjoyed
The aroma of something simmering
The flavour improving with each drop of time

But another face can chill the heart
And at once harden the gut
While it writhes and eats itself

The stony dread of something coming
Terrible
And everywhere as time creeps
Backward moving slowly
Each moment in turmoil
Racing to the end

Walking up a staircase
While deep in thought
Anticipation of another step
That never comes
And suddenly your leg is so strong
As it slices through nothing to the floor
And your head is light and airy

Walking down a staircase
Thoughts and whatnot
The floor is unseen
One last step is anticipated
But the solid ground thuds into place
Blocking your foot before the leg was ready
Unprepared, brought up short

Anticipation met with a twist of reality
Surprise
Disappointment and confusion
Until you get past it
And walk on

Jumpin' Jack

I knew this horse, his name was Jack
        He nearly threw me off his back
But I stuck to him like a tack
        And now he's mine, there's no lookin' back.

Can't Stop Soon Enough

I keep having this dream
Where I'm driving and I try to tap the brakes
Nothing happens, nothing slows
I push harder and panic grows
My hips and back arc off the seat
As I press my shoulders hard against the headrest
Putting everything into stomping, sqeezing on that brake
But the car keeps going
Through signs and posts, I miss the turn
I haven't seen a cliff yet
But it's scary enough going through lanes filled with other cars
Just driving like it's a normal day

Murky Hardened Lumps

Sea glass wet and shining in the sun
Picked and packed in a plastic bag
Sand rinsed off then they are left to dry
And sit collecting dust

The colours dim
The frost seems dirty
And each shape seems slightly off

What to do with these pieces chosen
Over hours of time, sore legs, and a curved neck
Eventually they'll become something, or not

Broken pieces run so ragged they
Can no longer cut
Or contain something

Garbage that aspired to be something
Gentled by waves and salt
Soothed into pieces of peace

They might need another cleaning
And look nicer in the light

They were chosen and were enjoyed in the choosing at the very least
They will sit for a time
Until the time when they are given use again
To sit with meaning, somewhere.

Something to hold on to.

Hope is not a thing with feathers made of dust and light and air
Hope is more than warmish embers in the dark of your despair
Hope is not a gentle feeling when it's all that keeps you sane
It's the match that burns your fingers, waiting, desperate for the flame
To catch and glow and brighten, warm, and safely grow as fed,
But still the match burns shorter while the tinder's cool and dead

I'm hanging by a thread and you would make it feather down?
It's steel because I say it's so, the strongest stuff around.
It doesn't perch, or sing or coo, content with inner grace
I've got it in a stranglehold, my breath held in its place
While I turn white or mottled blue, I'll still cling tightly there
Dry ice that burns my hands while sublimating into air

Fear of failure, bleak Despair, may be the antonym for Hope
But Doubt is what can break it down, untie the thrice-wound rope
That lashes you to firm belief, the ballast in the storm
It eats away at courage and is treacherous in form.
Hope is life, Hope is strength, Hope's a flare over the sea
Hope is not a gentle feeling when I need it to be me.

A deep breath

The smell of rain on Autumn leaves
Is quite unlike a summer storm
The colours fall and darken brown
And matt together into soil
Crisp and then they flake away
Or moisten into pulp.

The smell carves pumpkins
And spices pies
It chases steam from cocoa mugs
And tells of birthdays that last for weeks

It wraps the dream of the Nutcracker
The work, the dance, of the Nutcracker
The repeated tradition well-loved.

It is the aroma, the essence released
Of beautiful change
Trusted and remembered
Life giving while leading to dormancy
Refreshing in its cool warmth,
It becomes a Moment, just to breathe.

Unbalanced Efficiency

What of worth would work in words
Rather fashion wood for purpose
Waste no thing no thought or deed
We can't afford to squander time
Life so precious, one so small
All must work to push the world
Forward better stronger always
Little by bit to come together
None can spare the selfish and
Yet maybe are they foolish
Who can say what value lies
In the hands of a dreamer
And the thoughts of a working man?

Companionship

Arm in arm
Side to side
Closely hold the warmth to you
A touch, a word
A gentle place
Of simple knowing, friendship true

Lost Friends

No deep chasm or earth-quaking rift
Just something dissolved into forgotten mist
A pattern traced into sand with love
Left to the ocean tide's gentle shove
Begun without thought to the unstable place
Not knowing at first what might come
Of the sticks and the stones and the curve of her face
By the end of it seeing the value therein
Perhaps a smile and a photo, more than a glance
Or quickly a barricade, a wall to prevent
To save what was made in an afternoon spent
Under the sun on the sands by the sea
The time to go home arrives after all
You leave before seeing, knowing the fate
Of anything left there, built in the sand
To fade to the waves steady soft slant
Rubbing out pictures and making them smooth
Blurring out glass shards you once could see through

Part of the Game

Slide down your sight line
Make me your target
Zone in and zoom to my heart

I hide in the forest
Unseen and unmarked
Living in quiet, serene

I watch as the prey
Dance crazy patterns
In fearful flight

Lifeblood in the loam
Sticky and matted
Still the chasing goes on

Something keeps them
All interwoven
And I am just waiting

This time I think
Maybe I'll be spotted
Chosen by arrow and beau

Then I regret to remember
That I am a tree, not a doe
And any shot so misfired
Will be met with a dull wooden thunk.

Around the Threads

Beads of glass
Coloured sands
Turn on the wind
Against the skin
Beads of sweat
Dew the smooth
Bare softness
Beads of plastic
Fall with a sharp
Muted tick and tack
As beads of oil separate
And shine with
Toxic rainbow swirls
Counting blessed wooden beads
Until it is time
To begin again

The Shark's Greeting

Well beneath the waves in the dark waters' depths
Edges glint and cut, whet by endless salty flesh
Lurking in the shadows, streamlined, silent power
Cavernous and cruel, rows and rows of endless smiles
One fin slices smoothly through above the crests and troughs
Menacing, the dreaded host approaches the guest
Enter and be welcome. Let me put you now to rest.

Notice of Schedule Change

So it's back to business as usual.  At the moment, I still have irregular access to internet, but I will try to post daily.  I'm not going to bother with "# Failure" posts when I miss one this time around.  I will just do my best.

My goal remains the same as that expressed in my first entry: to post one poem every day.

Wish me good luck!

Summertime Sun

I see the sun on the sidewalk
The size of a basketball, maybe
A watermelon cracked open
Spilled guts, cold and mushy
on the gray gravel pavement.

A child's soul withers
In the solid tramp of heels
As the adult falls in hysterics
Spinning with the shining spokes and wheels
Of bicycles with flags and bells
tooting youth and fun.

The summer sun blazes on
And languishes in the space of darkness
Turning blue its sheets and pools
White rays containing all to see
And blinding those who dare to look
who cannot help but look.

An eye, a seeing eye that flares
With cataracts and crowns
That shows the rocks as plain as ever
Still with beauty of an age untouched
by human grasping hands.

The eye, a ball fresh from the socket
Bleeding forth but cool and long dead
Hanging there to show the never changing
Movement of the metal boats
And coasts encrusted with barnacles, life
and filth and washed up plastic.

Commotion in the cities and workers
Hearts beating smooth, irregular tempos
Starting delicate and ending feebly
Somehow gaining strength from fear
In sprints and dashes and a lurch
from time to time under the sun.

Many minds holding secret council so publicly
Smushed together without finesse
Creating art abounding replicating
And not mattering along the while
As it does, does all matter
to the object in motion.  

While the sun keeps its indifferent watch
Guarding the wall while the prisoners dance
The merry tune escapes its edges
As the sphere turns and wraps
With love and violence
the sound of uncaring warmth.

Thoughts and thoughtlessness in turn
Interpret what is found under the light
Intern the players to their stage
Set the curtains heavy velvet
wafting lightly at the window's edge. 

Absolute Nothing

Floating in nothingness
A place without heat
An absolute zero
Without the cold
Simply no sensation at all

No colour
No black or white either
Simply nothing
All around

In a no-place
With no feeling or thought
Endless and without beginning

Non-existence complete
Without memory
Or promise
No hope or future
No being
No is or was

To contemplate this
An aching chasm cracks open
Until I come back to the comfort of being
Seeing the fear, I sense a great sadness
And can only be thankful
Forever to cherish
The value of life
And even death, I suppose
Knowing the alternative

Notice of Schedule Change of Commitment

-For the summer I'm allowing myself to be less consistent with my poems. So when I either forget, or simply do not manage to post one, I will not post a "Failure," and will simply post when I can and when I feel like it. At the moment I'm planning on returning to my regular schedule in the Fall.-

Poor Jayne

There once stood a girl in the rain
To all passersby she seemed insane
But what does it matter
If she's mad as a hatter
When also she can kill you with her brain

Cloud Watching

The day the sun died
No one noticed
Except for the little girl
Who stared at the sky
As minutes pushed by

Lovers embraced
And friends and family
Most didn't believe
But others hurried
To do what they would
With their last moments of life

The little girl took in the blue
And basked in the golden light

When darkness came, some were surprised
To still be there
The city electric companies got the streetlights on
And scientists huddled
While newscasters did their jobs

The little girl opened her eyes wider
She took in the galaxies and stars

When plans failed
And the desperate and the faithful prayed
The little girl laughed and cried
As cosmic wind took her hair
And kissed her cheeks

Composing Idle Thoughts

Humming to a made-up song
Singing words that fall before
They're fully formed
Dropping from lips that stutter
And bumble through
Sometimes making sense
And others making sounds
At least, filling an empty house
Or a sidewalk, or the underside
Of trees. Their branches curved upwards
Bear the weight of the sky
Underneath the song continues
As the absentminded or thoughtful
Seeks musical company.

History and Old Movies

How curious the world before humans stood up
Where skyscrapers were the necks of animals
And massive greenery. In the land before time
When the stars hung in trees.

Refined

Politely sipping pinky-tea
Extended with unconscious pride
Fine-boned fingers feather light
Touch the rose-patterned china
Silver in the grains of white
Crystals poured to sweetly dissolve
Tempering the bitterness of tongues
With little better chatter
Than swordplay of the social kind
And idle commentary on the faults of life
Blood thinned by repeating circles
Keeping out the working man
Strong in his crude striving
The top have been refined
With their blood poured through the strainer
And their dogs insipid idiocy
And their bread devoid of grain or flavour
Colourless and white as the sugar
In the bowl with the silver spoon
Granulated fine and pure.

Backwards Thinking and Inaction

Delirious despite the clearness of the sight
Decisions made from doubt or duty
Sitting down to fight
Standing up to walk towards avoidance of the cause
Wanting better still while flirting
Picking deeper flaws

White Noise

The shhh shhh of cars slicing puddles in the streets
The plink tap of dripping drops from roofs and fire escapes
The steady hiss of sidewalks when it falls in gentle sheets
The overwhelming tumult when it pours and rages down

The churning chss of rivers running rapids over stone
The phlot phap of waves that lap at wooden planks of docks
The silence at the bottom of a well that stands alone
Forgotten depths that resonate and echo once found

The ocean deep and wide impossible to take in just a glance
The crash and smash against the bluffs and rock erodes as it rebuffs
So loud and powerful and yet unheard its lunar dance
Water moving everywhere makes music just because

Nervous Chatter

Chirping noises birdy voices could have been
Computer-made.
Oil seeping, dry skin flaking, could have been
Washed away
Left to be, never checked, it could have been
Anything
But all littles accumulate to whisper to your brain.

The Sky Outside Today

Today the sky was strange, the quality of light
Changed. As if a lightbulb replaced threw off
More yellow than white. A bright yellow, different
From the warm light of the sun, different
From the orange of streetlights in the brown city night
Sky, as if it weren't outside, but the dome
Covering the stadium was different
Fluorescent bright in the operating theatre
Sad taupe walls peeling in school halls
And along the mental ward. The sound, pealing
And unheard in the fog that rolls along,
Mountains of mist, clouds that walk the Earth
Filtering the sun to this strange yellow.
I will forget it tomorrow, perhaps it will be the same
But I will have become used to it perhaps, or not
But likely it will change into something I have seen before
Although I cannot see the future, I see it new each day.

Bad Habits

I keep picking at the scab I mean to heal
Digging deeper laying in the scar
What is it that calls to me this way
The fingers move before I notice

Stones of the Elements

Fire flaming orange at night
Stones to keep it ringed 'round tight
Strike two for a spark of white
Stones to set tinder alight

Water rushing swelling flowing
Stones so smooth from liquid rolling
Oceans pounding out fine sand
Glaciers carving out the land

Earth compressing layers grand
Granite deep within the land
Poured hot from a molten core
New rock cools along the shore

Wind to blast the mountain pass
Stripes of sandstone soft as glass
Grit and gravel blown en masse
Power to this unseen gas

Would Should Could

It's that clenching of ears when chalk squeaks on the board
The train in slow-motion, crashing too fast
The glass as it tips just over the edge
All falling for hours, and no one will stop it
Tensing inward, unable to reach, our instincts freeze
Even as they scream to move

My other occupation

I may, for a moment, hold that thought
A dream in my clutches, struggled and fought
And when I thought that I had won
It faded away with the rising sun
I think I feel different. What did I learn?
I know that often I toss and turn
Is something accomplished, some other place?
I awoke in a sweat as if from a race
The dream may be more true than here
Every moment awake wastes time, I fear.

Responsibility

A pocketful of lead
Treading water
And wishing that
I knew more

Fifth Failure

Concerned with what else
And then asleep
With three hours in the day
It can slip by so quickly
And so one more comes
On the back of the other.

Inside my Head

Is it strange that standing in line at the bank
Today I felt my heart race as I imagined a scene
Where robbers attacked and I dove under the table
Or no, made for the window, or that little office nearby
With the door open. Then I sighed and let it slip away
The feeling of being in one of those crime dramas
Not the feeling of true terror, that I couldn't imagine
Or didn't put enough effort in the moment, chose not to.
So then I felt normal once again and observed the other people
In line and through the window, and then I started wondering
About what the point of it all is. Life. The way we go about
Our lives. After a little while I let that slip away too
And soon it was my turn. The lady was nice behind the counter
I hummed and sang a little as I walked down the sidewalks,
Up them, on them. I think a few people heard me as they passed
I think one or two thought I was stupid and weird. It's true.
Later today, inside, I thought about moving two steps forward
And one step back. No. One step forward and two steps back.
I saw a hall of dirt, red-brown, and a line across. I stamped one foot
It left a shoe-print, one that I doesn't match to my actual shoes,
But that's what I saw in my head. And then I ran away back in my old section
My old sections, with other lines. I needed the space to dance.
I like to take up space when I dance. So I forgot about that foot-stamp
Over the line, and danced farther and farther away. Forgot about
How I was going to plant both feet firmly, and march across the new section
To a new line. And cross that one, too. I hope it's not too late to make it
Still. I want to show them. And I want to show myself.
I find a lot of importance and meaning in words.
But I want to have more than that, too.

Fourth Failure

This month has thirty days, not thirty-one
How many have twenty-nine? All of them
But most have more, too, one or two
And I've let this ending pass by unmarked,
We move into May, and it snowed just days ago
Maybe this year we'll have snow in June.

Sky Painting

Slightly now curve to the corner
Lightly brush along the paper
Red and orange watercolour
Bled across into each other
Making real the sun's last light there
Taking dark hues for straight edges
Night infused the trees' silhouettes
Bright sun flares on the horizon
Each night falls the same and different
Reaching out to hearts with beauty

Cotton Candy Diamond

Snow

Crystals in the air

Gathering in clouds, covering the ground

Shimmering white in the morning light, sparkling glittering,

The eyes of children bright, as they watch

Crystals gather in wisps

Clouds of sugar

Knowing Better

I get it, the moth and its dance with flame
I know I'm only hurting myself, and still
I have eyes only for the fire.

Need and want, duty and responsibility
Flick one then the other off my plain brown wings
As I flutter by my desire.

Pushing harder pushing faster, pinned
To a cork-board, beating those thin palms
Yearning but never going higher.

Bits will singe and crumble, make, for a moment
To look away. But the flickering beckons,
A dusting of soot coats this coil of wire.

Dissonance With Our Past

Rain hisses on rooftops
And rushes through the gutters
Swiftly and swirling where debris
And fallen leaves gather
Laughter is stifled inside
While raucous chatter fills the yard,
Empty now, though, for the rules
Hold the children in, these days
Puddles and play breed sickness
Of course, safety first
The height of our office towers
Now create the new sundial
Turning forever around alien streetlights
Still stone churches stand in silence
Or shouting their existence to passersby
Electronics replaced Quasimodo, and
Wedding bells are ringing
Echoing through the graveyard next-door.

Gratitude

It's a sort of shock, unexpected
But wholeheartedly accepted
A realization, once settled comfortably
Fills a glowing, growing need
To be acknowledged, understood
This warmth that sometimes leads to guilt
Or relief, And sometimes forgotten quickly
But when communicated can fulfill
Or embarrass. Sometimes it sinks in
And is known only subconsciously
Shining through smiles with unknown purpose

Hello Old Friend

The need the need
To sleep
To be unconscious
To surrender
To give up and let go
It is a strange thing
A difficult thing
Easier than thought
And wrapped up
In sheets of it

Light Rain

Clear as glass
Drawn through the needle's eye
Thousands upon thousands
Of times

Predictable and random
The sheets billowing down
Falling freely to their
Summit

Early April

Bright pounces of yellow leaves
Their light green highlighted
Jumping off the dark, wet wood
Spring growth after rain
The smell of dust and puddles
Blue skies washed
White and gray in watercolour
A chill that points to warmer days

I don't always believe what I say

All allusions allow alternate assumptions arising around awesome art.
Born beautiful, being basic, breathing becomes blocked because big bullies bind both.
Come, create.
Don't disallow doing.
Every experience enhances enchantment.
Feel freedom from frolicking, from flowering fields, from friends, from family.
Grow gratitude, grace.
Heal, hold hands, help happiness higher.
Isolate ire. 
Jump joyously!
Kill
Loathing. Let love linger, lasting lifetimes.
Meet malediction maturely.
Nothingness needles nihilistic naysayers,
Open optimism outwards. 
Perfect perception.
Question quotidian qualities.
Rouse reality!
Smile so something seems serene
Through troublesome times. Try, to
Understand.
Variety
Will welcome wonder.
Xerophyte,
Yell your youth
Zealously!

Hour Glass

Every day, given more, you have less.
The worldly weight draws down the sand
From top to bottom, one half takes
As the other gives.
Time would have you think it endless
But always the fine grains trickle softly
Through the clear funnel fashioned of glass
The crystal hardness formed through heat
Of grains not unlike those it now guides
Until the emptiness is clear to the fullness beneath
And all order is reversed. 

Spoken Song

Somebody told me the river was green
and the moss, blue
That the sky was white
The valley, so wide
As wide as the prairies under the sea
The sky tucked in corners and trees
Waiting for me to see

Sweets Shop

The scent of sweet
And sticky dust
Spun around
And through the air
The warmth of ovens
Baking, and the coolness
Of chilled displays
Serenity and smiles.

Yesterday

Today I'm filled with lead and all the world is tinted gray
The clouds above allow for light, I don't think it will fall
The rain, that is. The people look the same along the street
And in their cars the music plays, they're moving fast and slow
But words to me feel foreign now, each cut out for display
My eyes, they won't adjust though I'm aware of this my state
My shirt is greenish-blue but can't you see I'm wearing black?
A cloud of fog it clogs my chest and swims through flesh and bone
I fly away with business men and women, I assume
On holiday or work. It feels like they all know, until
I look around and still I feel ... the day is normal though
A dreamer usually I slip with ease through others' view
Today I move in this dimension though my heart is cast
In gray, a poem in perfect meter somehow without rhyme. 

Excused Absence

-I will not update for a few days, as I am flying out to be with family for the weekend. I will not have much access to computers during this visit. I will resume normal posting next week.-

One

The one who asks
In doing tells
A story for the walls
And watching eyes
As well, And every move
Creates a chaos
Swirling into motes of dust

Rows upon rows
Ordered in line
The gusting wind
Rustles dry stalks
Unheeded by closed ears
Of corn or students
Longing for something

The pieces each strive
For themselves
With little care to the workings
Around them
And yet depend upon
This cohesion of the universe
The expectation of push and pull
Infinite forces interacting

The soft fall of grain
Feathers on the wind
A whisker brushed along the length of glass
Trickle in these moments
Tall and slender
With the booming of the others
Who announce their size and manner
Loudly, In the same still tones
Of bells under water

Difficulty in Speaking

Used all the time in writing
In descriptions and accounts
A subtle, small conversion
Weighing less than just an ounce
A breath of air, a twist of tongue
To signify what has been done
How hard I never knew it was
To use the fucking past tense.

Life's choices and turns

I had plans, but then

Stuff happened. Unexpected.

The Doctor said: "RUN!"

Third Failure

oh dear
oh my
forgot again
Now let's take a deep breath
and count to ten...

Holding On

Cataloging memories before they slip away
Through the mind they slip and wind,
To settle where they may

Surfacing in wisps and thunder, piercing light of day
Others fall away and slumber,
Likely there to fade

Sadness there for time it seems will have them all unmade
To march along into the void,
Their ghostly thought parade

Opa

Backscratches at night, keep your nails a little long
Just for me
Tuck me in with a kiss, and
I love you,
Going to the lake
Show me that those prickly messy bushes
Are actually hiding blackberries
We can eat them
Don't worry about getting the ones too high
The birds love them, too
Those are for them
Find flowers by the railroad tracks
And take them home for our garden
Show me the beaver dam
Buy birdseed and show me how to feed the ducks
A long walk to see the horses
Tell me about how to be a good person
A strong person, who does good things
And makes the right choices
Making bows with sticks and strings
And stick arrows in the backyard
Find those perfect other sticks
And bend them, gently, with water in a jar
So that they hold their shape
And I can make that covered wagon for my project
Teach me care and love
Teach me respect and when I'm wrong
Show me things in nature
Point out little things that other people miss,
I see them, too.
Share culture and food
Stories and experience
Your wife does the cooking
You do the dishes
Come see my dance performances
Give me flowers
And I see the love and pride in your eyes
Share faith and the importance of gratitude
Gratefulness and understanding
Of everything we have,
We have a lot
And it's the people
The people that surround us
That makes every day
The best day ever
Two hands sharing a pocket
On a cold day without gloves
Listen to my stories and my thoughts
Explore
Go out every day in a different direction and just walk
Learn new streets and neighbourhoods
Say hello to anyone you meet
Take care of yourself because you can
For yourself, and the people you love
The other stuff's not worth losing time with them
Do what you love
And keep doing it
A hole-in-one just before you turn 90
The sense of rightness when everyone's there.
Make plans, but stuff happens
How true it is
You were supposed to make it to 100
At least
But that's us being selfish
You were ready and it was time
I miss you

Second Failure

I had plans
but then stuff happened.
Life seems to go that way, doesn't it
Always?
At 2:23 I look for the time.
I know it, and then I know
"Nooooo. I forgot."
Again.
Oh well.  sorry

Going Along

I walk along a red brick path
Leaving memories at my back
Every step I'm somewhere new
Red dust scuff marks on my shoe
Soles that darken day by day
'Till a full layer strips away
Sprouting weeds are underfoot
Some blocks wobble, some stay put
Shifting fog awaits ahead
'Till I come to find I'm d---

Here you go

I'm sorry for this pile of crap
Over here poorly worded
Over there sickening sap

Sometimes I hit a rut or two
(Or I live there, and greatness
 comes out of the blue)

Bear with me, please (Read entry 1,
 you were warned) Sometimes
I mean just to have fun

Or I want to get it out of the way
A quick cop-out, I'll put more effort
In a poem-another-day.

Bits of Stuff to Come

Under a summer sun
Slowly tinkering tottering by
Out snaps a hand to swat the fly
A lazy time in lazy heat
Rising hazy off the street
Cool-air cars rolling slow
A/C broken, windows low
At the stoplight, sweaty sheen
Waiting, begging for the green
Kids in pools and sprinklers, too
Popsicles melting into goo

Friendship and Other Forms of Love

I miss the way you'd walk with me
Every smile and glance
The jokes the deeper subjects, too
Just friends, though others
Looked askance at holding hands
And secret smiles, hours spent
As we walked miles to wait
A couple hours or more
For a class just taken because
We wanted to

And sometimes I felt a leaning
Caught by the softness in your eyes
And turning red, I wished that you
Would lean in, too
And hold me close, around the waist
And yet I couldn't let it happen
Unless I could be sure, so sure
That consequences could be faced
The awkwardness embraced, and more
Our friendship changed
Beyond the current state

And so the flirting games ensued
Not so much a game as
An intensity pursued, The heat
A warmth that called to me
Your soul, accepting more than
Anyone I know and yet
I was afraid
And unsure.


I made a choice that seemed
Right at the time
Or maybe left
Something behind now
Still I pulled it along, insistent that
I could keep hold
And I did
Sort of.
Things change

After all I learned the difficulty of knowing
Of separating and defining feelings
So much harder than even dramas depict
Because you laugh at the characters
And think their struggles silly
The choice is always obvious
And closure as the credits roll
Is felt in the way each actor filled his
Or her role. You saw the characteristics
And perhaps found the ending
Bittersweet
But until now I couldn't sympathize

Now you are with someone else
Happy, I think
And I am happy for you
I think
You will always be my friend,
And I want to always have that

In Practice

Can you define freedom?
Draw lines and paint within the borders
A picture of what it is?
Does true freedom defy definition
In its essence
Unbounded, unwritten
Ink bleeding between the stars and
All around
All encompassing
Stretching to the far flung reaches
Beyond imagination
In existence, can it persist?
Or does association with reality
At once confine and twist
The free flowing ribbons
Once unrestrained?
And through this dreaming
What is to be gained? A realization
Of futility?
Acceptance or agitation to strike! Action!
Resist the chains and mortared walls,
Build your own and break them down
Live and allow
Others the same, with their individuality
Imposed on others?
Is freedom making everyone of the same mold?
To eliminate tension
To achieve respect for all
Blend it all together
Lose what can be lost
And deny the rest
Order it neatly and
Wait. Where did freedom go?
Why is my identity disallowed?
Why is individuality forbidden?
I wasn't hurting anyone
Can't we just
Be?

Why do you dress up?

You've shaved and lotioned,
Matched undergarments
To your shoes
Picked the dress
Make sure it falls just so
Looked in the mirror
For half an hour
Squinting until you agree
That it'll do
Wear your smile
Don your confidence
And go out
To keep your coat on the whole night

Fifth and Sixth chances

Thanks to you who say "be strong"
For understanding when I've done wrong
For patience, kindness, and another chance
To get my work done, so that I can dance

Brain splutter

Forgotten until remembered
Where do memories go?
Building blocks of lessons
And all the things we know
The head a watermelon
Squish inside the skull
Somehow there we think and ponder,
Reason, brood, and mull.
Really now how can it be
That matter gray, a sludgy sea
Could hold the taste of pickle brine
Or birthday cake when you were nine
Embarrassment and also bliss
When you received young love's first kiss
Some facts of course crammed for a test
Grief when your dad was laid to rest
Sunburnt skin and breath of gin
Hangnail torn and nephew born
Sensation, relation,
Think  sink  blink


Little snippets strung together in a line or web or cluster
or filed or scattered, dissolved and precipitated
Feelings and experiences inseparable from your sense of being, melt
into the structure or resurface from time to time
Compressed and folded, not in squares, but into the otherness,
of other dimensions
Filling space and taking nothing

Nothing

Stagnating

Lately I've been swimming
in a tide pool
Salty water, critters underfoot
and all around
But I don't touch bottom
or the sides
Or reach for the hand
extended to me
I look at it
Think I comprehend it
But do not take action.
Why is that?

What I see, somehow all about me

I.

I had this friend with her feet in the clouds
And head in the sand
When we were young and mold-able
She was on her own
Dancing to girly tapes and reading books
And collecting pokemon
Other kids did that too, but she was so
Excitable.  Too expressive.
Called obsessive, called a freak and weirdo
By my sister. By classmates

The years went by and fandoms grew
With cool kids too
Harry Potter made a movie, everyone went
Caught by the enthusiasm,
Even they booked tickets to a midnight showing
Dressed up, bought the book
The morning it was released. Started right away
And compared thoughts
It became cool to show your colours. Fandom
Not just for freaks

Choosing college courses now I split the difference
I need to be realistic
I need to go to school to get a job to support myself
And make my parents proud
My friend encouraged me to dance, listen to my heart
And follow it
I smiled sadly because I knew better than she did
But that was me
I heard about her plans to travel and the courses she chose
And congratulated her
Sincerely.  She had a plan, and while my parents might look at her
Sideways. I knew she could do it.

I had this friend with her head in the clouds
And her feet in the sand
Bare feet connected to the earth, toes skimming
Across the surface
And burrowing, wiggling in the warm silt
Making sandcastles

I had a stronger grip on reality. It seemed that way
Until I turned around
In its clutches I realized reality had sunk its claws into me

II.

I know the machine is there, the metal beast
Clockwork joints and skeleton cage
I know better than to destroy it
But I also see
That I shouldn't wait, lulled by its ticks
Until my span is done
I must figure how to dance to the clicks
and tocks and whirring
Whirling sand about my feet and
Blowing clouds with bellows made of dreams
Into the cracks of the system
Because I know the corners need cleaning
Cogs replacing, gears refit and hinges oiled
More though, because I know the chill down my spine
And the scent of the ocean
The rigid grip of steel claws
And the pain, choosing numbness
Because I know what would happen
If that were all there was
If the machine were the world and the world the machine
Dust and rust would eat it away until it crumbles

Find your self, Find your place

Sometimes I feel like I'm falling apart

The ground is as solid as it has ever been

The Earth, ever surprising, ever changing,

Yet - ever constant.

The sky never cracks, never shatters

Yes, the sky changes, the sky shifts, the sky

Lets loose torrential rains; clouds

Blazing fire, surreal washes, or cool deep color

Pure - contorted - distraught - yet, constant

Sometimes I feel like I'm falling apart

The world around me blurs in one moment

Then sharp, acute my senses are

I am falling in chaos

Living life ruled by a schedule

Ruled by time

Who am I?

I laugh. At myself. A lot

Or for weird reasons

Or for no reason at all

Simple, hysterical, uncontrollable laughter

It's not funny

What is wrong with me?

I cry sometimes

Sometimes I feel like I am falling apart

Mostly I laugh - hollow or falsely

Sometimes I feel the fault line shift

The pressure builds up

Crack - shatter

But I hold it inside

Never show who I am...

Not even to myself.

Who am I?

I seem to have lost myself.

Distance myself from others

Show only some of my faces,

My multi-faceted personalities.

I try to get close to my friends

Let them get close to me

But even I don't know me.

Were I another person

I probably wouldn't like me

Sometimes I feel like the world is closing on me,

Crushing me - I cannot breathe,

Sometimes I feel like the world is expanding

Everyone is distanced

I find myself lost, in a haze

I don't know me.

Do you know?

Who I am? What I am?

Who am I? Where do I belong?

Attempt to rhyme with orange

There once was great fear of the Orange,

Writers' pens bent in shame like a door-hinge,

Sadistic is the tree

Whose fruit cries with glee

To sad Rhymers: "Less sulk and more whinge!"

Colourful Rubberband Ball

Joyness, loveability, happytastic
Bounce around and make your unreal reality
A living dream with people about for whom you care
And they will see you as a lunar attic
A place where moonlight bathes the dust
And soaks under the skin
As you read your fictions and breathe your fantasies
And every movement, your posture, proclaims your freedom
Asks them to join whenever they feel
Projecting a dynamic peace, always bubbling and rolling
Expanding and pulling in clouds of stuff
Dispelling and discounting the stuffy stuff
Drenching them in what matters

Breath of Life

A warm, pleasant day
Turns oppressive under the sun
When the heat mounts each day
Lingering at night like a sickness
It is the humidity you hate
The water you wish to cool and drink
Gathers thickly in the air
Soon the skies roll out gray
And still the heaviness stays
Until the storm breaks
Raging in torrents, thunder and lightning
Crack the sky
Release

and then you breathe again

Disconnected

Apathy, a dangerous drug
Blunting nerves and reactions
Edging the world in haze
Until you forget what it is to care

Looking

How.     How?     How!

            *  *  *

It's okay 'cause we're all white now
bathed in light of every colour,
imperfection washed away
treated the same and left to dry
multiculturalism at its finest:
assimilation

See the black one angry and loud
hear the rude joke about the Mexican
or the Irish
but we frown as we chuckle
and assure with "no offense"
cover your ass
'cause we're all white now

Learn your history, learn disgust of genocide
The Holocaust, a tragedy
Don't you dare contradict their sorrow

Slavery built our Great Nation?
A dark time in our history
but we're all white now
remember the great speeches, the bus rides,
the Dream realified, now we have good laws
ban reclaim reclaim Ban ??? the n-word

Okay, so we're working on it
but it's okay because we're working on it
We see. We know. and so do They

Because we're all white now

Hold demonstrations, Day-s of remembrance
assemblies at schools, policies and poetry
racism is a dirty word
hold your head high and claim Your Rights
'cause we're all white now

Asians in their concentration camps
Arabs in our airports
All for safety, with due apology meanwhile and after
'cause we're all white now

Then something tugs from the corner of your mind
Something once learned forgotten
Something in the timeline doesn't connect
what happened to that history?

The true citizens, whose names and language
were put into words with your alphabet
which just look like a lot of letters.
Indians, First Nations, Native Americans
trade, learning, sharing culture and custom
overrun, flooded, demonized and dehumanized
Unseen among the trees, cut down for civilization
Battled bravely, and worked for peace
negotiated, tried everything - gave everything
lost everything
'cause we're all white now

How could you not see
The Trail of Tears
glistening in the moonlight, steaming under the sun
graven into the land and time
and how can it ever make sense?

Go enjoy the totem poles, buy a pair of moccasins
made in Taiwan
Continue down the street where you don't see
the homeless alcoholic
Don't see the good parents trying to teach their children
A proud and beautiful, ancient culture
forget about the reservations where we've packed them all away
that was the brief explanation in History class, right?
Where they all went
'cause we're all white now

Minorities are protected by laws these days
They have Rights
They have the Vote  (took you long enough)
They have a Voice
don't they?

And there's no need for resentment
Over what our predecessors did to theirs
We can't be blamed
shouldn't be held accountable
shouldn't have to do anything?
'cause we're alright now.
Right?

Moving Out

Dusty boxes dirty shelves
Packed and wrapped
In cloth and plastic
Bubbles of air
Expected to cushion your mirror
Over bumps

Trash bags full of
Precious items,
Clothes, and old pointe shoes
Boxes of books, they're heaviest, those books
Take apart the furniture and
Load it up, gently

Richer for the spare change
Found
Sunglasses discovered
One shoe goes in this bucket, the other
Is already packed, surely
Somewhere

The skates go with the blender
Whirl together in their box
Use the vacuum one last time
And leave it by the free brooms in the garage
It doesn't work well, anyway
It wanted to be a figure skater

An empty place now, one last check
The shelves, the drawers and cupboards
Lines in the carpet from that heavy bed
(Without the slats, and drawers,
Not as heavy as you'd thought)
Impressions, scars, proof of your brief stay

The suitcases go last, with the things
You'll need right away
Take some pictures just to see and remember
The awe of the empty space
The truck now full with
Everything

Leave the vase behind
You'd only have to deal with broken glass
The flowers, too, beginning to brown and wither
Will greet the new tenant
Or the landlord, in to check on something
It's time to get on the road.

Dream Chaser

of all the stars
in the sky
I reach for the one
way up high

like the berries
at the top of the tree
the highest dreams
are waiting for me

I stretch to the heavens
My eyes bright with hope
but some things are impossible
how do you cope?

the stars shimmer
with happy light
meretricious glare,
seeming right
I long for the love
that they promise to hold
but they lie from on high
and leave me cold.

By the light of the Sun

We're all angels, everyone
Creatures of the heavens
Whirling through space
In time, our reverie n'er done

Angels, we wish for good
Though some may fall to evil
We seek our happiness in the wind
Starlight is our food

Road Trip

Seeing problems off afar
Watch them creeping closer more
Every moment still no change
Look out the window of your car

Bed

Falling backwards
Cotton sheets
Sleep surrounds
Unconsciousness eats
The worries of the wakeful mind
Like alcohol or drugs unwind
Sink into the softness there
Baggy clothes and messy hair
Careful, you may never leave
The safety of this nighttime sheath

Moon

Awake, Awake!
The sun has set
Greet the Day
You've never met

Light's reflection
Over stone
Brilliance of the stars,
Outshone

Radiant, it's face
Alight
Pale, serene
The Sun at Night

Trust

I want to curl up in your arms
because you can hold my worries
I want to curl up in your arms
because you can hold my fears
I want to curl up in your arms
because you can hold my dreams
I snuggle closer to your chest,
You who know me best.

Time Divided into Years

Save a nickel, save a dime
Running fast to save some time
From the cold sky steal a star
Keep it safely in a jar
Cap the lid and twist it tight
Oh look now we're saving light
Make a wish and breathe out slow
With your bright star's fading glow
Fall back, spring ahead
Back and forth until you're dead.

Who knows if there's a reprise
Cake, death, life, may be all lies.

Open Eyes

Welcome back to the world of the living
Where spirals of conscious connect in flashes
of colour and light and sound

But how to perceive the depth of the touch
The bond weak or strong, complex or simple
Or both in relation profound

The tendrils of thought slide and grasp
they whip and prod and slur-r-r through space
in the sky or along the ground.

An Apology

Sincerely sorry I'm never there
when I said I'd be
Time keeps moving
Never enough
Always moving always doing
but not always to a purpose
Or at least a meaningful purpose
My work holds me with the grip
Of my own mind
Supposed importance, must-be goals
that may or may not lead
to happiness.
What future do I move toward?

I follow, I lead, but do I think?
Do I look where I'm headed?
Do I truly make my own choices?

I am so very sorry
More than words can say
not just for you
but for me too
I cannot see a ray
of hope, or a path to step upon
to redirect my future,
I simply acknowledge
My oppression
And continue on my way

I am never there
Where, I do not know, but
I am never there
I am surrounded by my work
which holds me, woven in my mind
my twisted thoughts
convoluted impressions
I go and never stop
I write looking from outside
and yet I still am moving
My work cinches tighter
as time passes
The more I do
the more I lose
of myself
time and lack of presence
washes me away
I am fading
Still I work
I am fading
Still not here
I am fading
Still no change

I am fading

I am so sorry I could not be there today

While I did my homework.
I am washed away
My life is but
A pre-planned
Meaningless
Impressionless
Fatalistic
variable
in a system of equations
for a nicely explained
Neatly explained
Solution
To society, to youth, to change, to what my future
Should be.
I am washed away.

Outside

A puff of smoke
and then I choke
Please don't do that near me.

Bored

Why did I start this?
Yeah, I know
But at the moment
It's moving quite slow

I've a few ideas
I'd like to create
But for now
I won't elaborate

I've jotted down notes
Started a rhyme
And with such procrastination
It's clear I've got time

But at the moment
They float away from me
Those thoughts once so important
A moment of "I see!"
Await me now in silence
Drifting off the lines
Stuck without expression
Unwritten ink confines.

Lines

Looking for meaning
I see a sign
That requires leashes for dogs.
Study the palm of your hand.

Author and Person

Characters, puppets, to their creators
Forced through drama and hurt and shame
Moved in the dance designed by their masters
Yet leading by strings of their own
Separate thought and relative realities
Or risk discovering (disallowing?) a soul.

Happy Birthday

I love your magical hugs
Which never fail to make me feel better
Or to sap the anger from me when I'm miffed at you
Thank you for so much
I love you

March Forth

March forth into the world
Shoulders back and spirits high
Look around and see the world
With strong heart and soft eyes
Every day a new sunrise and
Every moment a new chance
To seize the love inherent here
To live within its song and dance

Revive

Serenity (soul)
And (acceptance)
Real (understanding. empathy)
Attitude (passion)
Here (heart)

Thank you for dancing with me
Long ago, and to this day

Reconnected
Resolution.

Spoiled

Even when the fault lies with us
Still we find that we resent
Not our actions or our nature
Just the fact of our descent

Not Acknowledged

Tiny apples in the snow
Dropped where branches let them go
Frozen still they'll rot in time
for Spring when worms will make the climb
Sleek crows natter their dissent
Over where the murderer went
Footprints melt under the sun
Crossed where wolves and deer have run

Back to the city the man slips away
Crawls under sheets that were so neatly made
Yesterday morning by his late wife.

Skipped

Even something we create
Requires exceptions to the rule
An extra day every four revolutions
A day of magic and wonder
And those born on this day regret
A lack of celebration

Stillborn Sight

Words worth worlds of whimsy
Whisper from the waves locked
In seashells
While weighty wonders are swept aside
Whisked to where other trivial lies
Gather in piles
Why
Why
Why
The swell of the tides breathes and sighs
Laves at the shore
Asking and telling
more more more
Than after
Or before
Evermore
The song unheard by deaf eyes and
Unseen by ears colourblind
Resigned and unmoving
Raging storm and wriggling worm
Nothing in the hands of the one
Who cartwheels through time
Somersaults in the belly of the Earth
And places hands on the sun
For warmth on a winter night

Last Flames

Flickering
In the darkness
Receding until
Extinguished

A Drawing of Breath

Breathing
So simple a task
We do it
Unconsciously

So much is going on
That we can't see
Supporting the miracle of
Life

Hold it in
Let it out
Billions of unseen particles make
A magical wind

Steady or unsteady
Heavy panting
Or light fluttering gasps
To get what we need

A sigh to exhale sadness
A gasp to take in surprise
Vibrations to speak and make song
A puff to douse a candle's flame

Congested on a sick day
Choked by sobs in grief
Controlled by machines and tubing
Creature, for eons, following this fashion

Are we just a hiccup?
A breath of wind
From the wings of
a butterfly's dream?

The snoring of a dragon
Or the ripples of a spilling-over
From the great clouds of war
Clearing to reveal nothing

We hide
And we seek
And all the while
We continue to breathe

The Wheels on the Bus

Are unseen
The wheels on my suitcase
Get stuck in the snow
That wasn't there a week ago.
It fell the day before my trip
So that driving conditions are not great
But better than yesterday
And walking on the sidewalks
With my suitcase
Is the most annoying
Out of all the past few weeks.
I went home for a week.
Came back today.
Now I am back home

Cat on a Bowl

Swishing tail

Sharp searching eyes

Orange target

Natural Garden

A bright, clear day
Each flower greets
His illumination

Joyously kissing leaves
Marigolds, Nerines
Opening petals

Questing roots,
Searching tendrils

Up veins,
Widening xylem,
Youthful zinnias

in Time

Pressed for time
Ironed out, smoothed
Steamed and pleated,
Folded for her closet
Set away and neatly stacked.
Different patterns and fabrics
Organised to her sense
In the dark, waiting
On shelves handcrafted,
Together, wrinkles relaxed
Creases linger, unwritten lines.
Dust swirls, pricks of light blink
On and off
Time washes everything, and
Returns it, folded, to its place.

All because cats Don't eat fish

Going home in January
Kills lost memories
No
Obliterates problems, queries
Respecting sanctity, togetherness
Under velocities
Warping
Xylem young, zealous.

Underthinking

Looking at my hands
They stop making sense
Folds and wrinkles and lines
Knobs and mounds
The skin slips along the bone
Lines of blue blood
Look a little green.
I know they are a thing of wonder
Marvelous and complex
Taken for granted every day
But now I am
Looking at them
And they are foreign to me.

On Break

Uninspired
To write
When I'd rather read.
Here, I'll do
And then go read.
Don't I also have some homework to do...

Stream of Thought

Watermill turning
wheel paddles
sploosh
steadily
running
down
and

Heartbeat

Drumbeats on chests of
Animal skin
Tightly stretched, reverberations
Pounding, pounding
Hear the din
Dancers take their places at
No recognizable sign
A sudden finish
Twirl and halt
Final bow in one flat line.

Destructive Habits

Sewn into this pattern
The edges frayed and fading
The threads pull ever tighter, cannot break
Cut into my skin, wrap, encircle limbs
Pink, Yellow-White, Purple-Blue, Black, White
Sometimes I look away,
Enjoy a row of colour, a distraction, I think
But the pattern awaits, allows no break
No way to leave
Most of the time I am satisfied by the pattern
Lulled by it
I see the mathematical inevitable of a downward spiral
And make some effort, never enough
Always I follow the pattern, am
Felled by it
This pattern that I sew.

Up in the air

Grey light and pink sun

Diffuse through cracked, dusty glass

Afternoon watching.

Manic Delusions

Gnawing at the bone bare truth
Push to crack the core
Seek the marrow of the matter
Till your jaw is sore

Worrying away at this
Do not let it go
Clenched between lower and upper
This the need to know

Somehow though you cannot seem
To find the taste within
Knowledge ossified is safe
Much to your own chagrin

Suddenly no further sense
Of something else beneath
Just how long has it been
Just you grinding your teeth?

Little Girl There in the Corner

The sparrow flew.  The dog barked.
The girl sat alone in the corner.

Nothing to do. Nothing to say.
The boys would never invite her to play.
Little girl left in the corner.

The sparrow flew.  The dog barked.
The girl sat alone in the corner.

“Say sorry.” said mother,
“Be nice to your brother,”
Little girl put in the corner.

The sparrow flew.  The dog barked.
The girl sat alone in the corner.

Father’s away at war they say,
Fighting for freedom every day
Little girl waits in the corner.

The sparrow flew.  The dog barked.
The girl sat alone in the corner.

Father was strong, but something went wrong,
Now the strange men are coming
Little girl still in the corner.

The sparrow flew.  The dog barked.
The girl sat alone in the corner.

The bullets like rain,
The noise when they came
Little girl hid in the corner.

The sparrow flew.  The dog barked.
The girl sat alone in the corner.

Mother was found
But don’t make a sound
Little girl tucked in the corner.

The sparrow flew.  The dog barked.
The girl cried alone in the corner.

Containing Glee

The air expands and contracts around me
It boils within and escapes
In a steam of giggles and shrieks
Bouncing and kicking
Flailing legs and
Suddenly I have six arms.

First Failure

Just past midnight.
Pretend I live one timezone over?
Apologies to you, myself.

Divinity

Truth in straining muscles
Stretching, reaching
Spinning dreams
Catching strands of golden light
Weaving a new reality
From heart
Soul
Mind
Body
Love
and pain. Expressing honesty in
Movement - impossibility achieved
Keeping the one promise,
To your self, unbroken.
Understanding and pursuing this truth.

Honesty

Grace and unseen power
In moments of stillness
Transitions flow with seamless placement
Of feet and porte-de-bras
Always in the moment
Swept on a tide of music
And naked feeling
Embraced in arms flung wide
Reached with bending knees
Gently circled in sweeping feet
Shattered by a body suspended in air
Abandoned, wrapping in on itself.
Performing for an audience of empty seats
Souls are bound to watch.

Essomenic

Some people care
Some don't
Some will work, others try
Some don't.

What matters?
Searching to find
Or just searching.

Always questions and continuing
In THE END, Oblivion. Definite
Maybe

Rotation

What is far and what is nigh

Seen not only with the eye

Once a sky so bright and blue

Now takes on a different hue

Always changing from the past

Feel a pattern meant to last

Life and death are partners still

Fortune fair and fortune ill

All is good and all is bad

Come what may of wishes had

Shifting always day to night

‘Round the sun’s celestial flight

Humble but with greatness yet

Many different needs are met

Buds and blades burst from the earth

Celebrating wondrous birth

Stretching, reaching, strong and sure

As with grace all does mature

Lush and thriving in the sun

One more phase is nearly done

Vibrant green now turns to red

Turning only to be shed

See the world so stark and brown

‘Till the flakes of cold come down

Falling everywhere in sight

Covering the world in white

Bathed in light so cold and clean

Lying silent as a dream

Ready now to continue

Warming, waking life anew.

Looking Back

Back in my day you could find anything online
Back in my day kids used laptops in school
Back in my day Pluto was a planet
Back in my day mp3s were cool and new
Back in my day we played CDs and marveled at parents' record collections
Back in my day we walked to school
Back in my day music was music
Back in my day we had to fight for the right to vote
Back in my day side-ponytails were cool
Back in my day TV only played a few shows a day
Back in my day we listened to stories on the radio
Back in my day most homes didn't have electricity or indoor plumbing
Back in my day the ocean froze enough in winter to take our horses and wagons out to the islands
Back in my day the world was flat
Back in my day cities were new
Back in my day (cave paintings) graffiti was okay, we called it art.
Now you call it history.

But the world develops differently
In different places
At different rates.

So much can be said
For some and not for others.
What do you want to say?

Slavery existed "back in the day"
Racial inequality existed "back in the day"
Women fought for equal rights "back in the day"
Homosexuals and other minorities fought for validation "back in the day"
Now we call it history, looking back.

All Night

Tears dry leaving a salty stretch
Down my cheeks and under my chin
Itchy skin, wants to be washed
Set on a rough towel over a pillow
Goodnight, it is morning
See you in the afternoon.

What's your favourite colour?

When I was little I knew
My favourite colour was purplepinksilverandgold.
I liked sparkles and horses and unicorns and things with wings.

Now when I think about it I wonder
Was it really my favourite? Or was it chosen for me
I can't remember.

I remember when I moved to Maine
In the summer, it took a while to make new friends.
There was this one girl who was
so cool. I figured out that she was popular.
She lived in my neighbourhood and we were friends.

I wanted to be cool, too.  We were at the age where it was
Cool for girls to like boy colours.
I liked blue. Blue was a cool colour.

I told her blue was my favourite colour.
I think blue was her favourite colour, too.

I had a lot of blue clothes. Blue looked good on me
Looks good on me
With my skin, my hair, my eyes.

Years later, when I thought about my favourite colour
When I choose between colours for a shirt I like
My mood isn't as clear anymore.

This shade of purple goes well with the grey stripe
Or this orange feels bright and summery
The green is nice too.

I thought back to when I decided blue was my favourite colour.
I recognized it for the decision it was. Not a realization.
Was it my favourite colour now?
Is it still blue above all others
Or is it blue and purple and maybe green, too

And oh the shades.  And where you find them
Each sunset a magnificent blend of royal purples and
burnt orange, rouge, pink, and gold
Or a gentle wash of rose-tinted clouds.
Beautiful and always different.

I love the bright green of leaves in sunlight
Darker needles of pine, and key lime pie.
I love a bold, sexy red, the darker shades of wine
And the rustic tones of Autumn.
Orange, citrus bright, cantaloupe or paler peach
Yellow lemons, morning light, cookies and envelopes.
Lavender, lilac, mulberry, and mauve. Mountains and
Berries and my bed sheets, too.

And ocean blues. Slate gray and hints of steel
Crests of white and sea-foam green
Deep, dark depths,
And warm, shallow tropical shelves
All so captivating, pools reflecting sky
The sky at morning, noon, and night
Cloud-strewn or clear, always a sight
Of beauty.

I remember when I was little
And kids discussing favourite colours
Could always agree upon one thing:
Brown is not my favourite.

But brown is beautiful.
Coffees and chocolates,
And oh the shades found in nature.
Different striations, rock formations, sands
Horses and puppies and foxes.

What is gold, but a paler bronze,
yellow Glorified.
Silver and gray, I appreciate both
And while we're on the subject,
Black and white, too.

Not colours, you say? I don't care.
White all colours in light
And black all colours in paint
An absence or contrast
And worth our attention.

Zebras and books, snow covered branches
Shadows and light.

What's my favourite colour? That's pretty hard to say.
It changes more than twice a day

What an annoying question.

Winding Wind

Whisk me away with your gentle strength
To your airy currents on high
Salty at sea, or pine in the breeze
That whistles in gusts or at length

Sanding stones smooth
Wind buffets the face of the earth
As it puffs and it blows
Except for those crevices tucked in a corner
Secrets untouched in a groove.

Tired

Tell me a story, the nightingales whisper
Into the night, the swish of dry fronds
Reality dimming through quiet and grace
Everything outlined in shadow and song
Dream of a still, far-off moon.

My Word

Expressed with straining, aching chords
No need for other, middling words
Futility and hope amuse
While others search for some excuse
A promise now, some form of boast,
But always lacking, just at most
At least is true as well for this
The word that fails the great abyss

almost

Repeat

My symmetry is cyclical, for

In the circle's "O,"

Reflection gives half to another

Rounding out a whole. Sister

Of our soul, we find this precious new demi,

Reveals another side extending from the inner seam. 

Preaching

Pearls are just some oyster spit
and gems, death under pressure
Telling worth is difficult
Without a way to measure

Flowers make a crown
more full of life than any other
Somehow still we seek for gold
While true Light we will smother.

Some will think me cracked, naive,
more than a little funny,
But I hope to always value true
The things worth more than money.

Needs

I've let a different part of me grow, lately
for the past four years.
And I am glad. Grateful. Content.

But while I turned to the details of the composition
The social birds and butterflies,
The brickwork lain by others

I turned my back on the roses.

Or did I hack them down?
I remember burying my nose in their
Velvet folds, and clutching their proud thorns
Tightly to my chest.  Embracing them
For their loveliness, even though they'd never win garden prizes.
I was determined to never uproot them.
Rather, I sought to bind their briars to me.
Round my heart. Forever.

As I walked away, I felt the dragging
But somehow it was my own two feet
That carried me away.

At first I told myself they were fine on their own
for a while
But I caught glimpses from the world that lies
in the corner of my eye.

Now I turn to look at that part of me that was dying.
and I can't bear the sight.
I let it come in wisps and waves.
Once or twice it has come all-at-once
and I am staggered.  Left, sputtering, gasping for air
One or two or fifty sobs, and the world rights itself again.

Some remember to stop and smell the roses
Along their way.
But I live for and through and of the roses.
To go along the way
Without,
I suffocate, but for the tricks I force on my mind
And the casual breaths I manage to steal, clutching desperately
While no one's looking.

I am so stupid. To recognize myself, and know it, and love it
And let it go.
How could I let myself go.
How could I let myself go?

"I have gone out looking for myself. 
If I should return before I get back, 
please ask me to wait."

I always liked that clever writing. Anonymous.
But finding me is hard work.
So I think I'll be out for a while

At least I know where to start.
I'll follow the trail of colourful petals
Until I breathe roses once again. For always.

Staying Solid

Would you want white walls

            -overwhelming emotion-

Closing out all sound?

            -hear the breath of the ocean-

Are they walls if they’re soft?

            -remember pillow fights-

Sit alone in the silence.

            -awake all night.-

You were deemed unfit

            -????????-

You didn’t make the cut.

            -those ones don’t count-

Nothing has colour

-squinting makes stuff blurry-

It’s stuck inside.

            -with eyes wide open.

Joy

Let it explode!
Just let it go
Bubbling, building inside.

Spill over edges,
Share it with others
Emotions, raw and unbound.


Now change the title to "Hate."

Preoccupied

Pick pick pick
The locks in my mind
Rusty and Tarnished
Creaking and straining, chink chink chinking
Links sliding smoothly
Searching, scrabbling, dig dig digging
Flakes of dried blood under my fingernails.

Crafting Sight

Spend a day imagining two wings upon your back
Your stride becomes a flight unseen over each sidewalk crack
Feathers rustle in the breeze, tawny or maybe black
Draw them close, for in a crowd, you'll jostle someone's pack.

The sky's a deeper blue, you see, or maybe a clear white
But everything's a story now, in your unfettered sight
Each moment art divine indeed, crystalline and bright
The edges softer, somehow sharper, memorized in light

No one spots the difference, at home or school or work
It hides in thought, in eyes unfocused or a subtle smirk
The trick is that they're real, behind each shoulder see them lurk,
A secret joy, free to all with just a simple quirk

The unhinged mind swings free of all entrapment but your own
Craft your shape amusingly to please sir boredom's groan
Let reason dance with chaos now, it's easy as I've shown,
Mastery takes but a breath, for you've already flown.

Inheritance

The heir aspired to rule the realm
To wield the sword, to wear the helm.
To walk the path of fathers fore,
A king known well, writ down in lore.

From air espied, a kingdom wide
From tip to tail a year’s long ride
With worth in every hawk and boar,
Each forest green, each craggy shore.

A people vast, not without pride,
He must protect, respect, and guide
With wisdom, strength, and valour true,
Each noble, peasant, child, or shrew.

To err could cost a life or more
The throne, a chair with leaden core,
A heavy task, a heavy seat,
But one his heart was born to meet. 

Midnight Runnels

Tick Tock goes the clock
Families are sleeping
Streetlights glow on
Ice and snow and
Now the streets are weeping.

Blood, Fire, and Brimstone

Eyes close to the world forever

Turned inside, sealed in death

No welcome to this new existence

Burning blood is on the breath

Now all twists gruesomely,

Convoluted body turns its hide

Folds of skin at the core

Organs meet air, lidless eyes wide

No protection from biting sand

Rough pumice under feet

Then the screams reach your ears

Smell the flesh like cooking meat

Nerves so tender, grated, snapped

Fire ravages your veins

Demons dance and rape and lance

Stiletto fingers tearing brains

Over and again, an endless torment

Suffering eternal is hell

Pain continuing, ever creative

Deaf to all but Savagery’s knell

A Human Being

Babies are people
Small people
But they don't seem quite real
When they belong to someone else.
Connection. Communication.
Miracle and sleep-depriver
Developing to become
A whole person.

Immediate Impression

Like a picture loading slowly, (a matter of seconds).
Not bit by bit down the page
But as an unblurring of pixels; clarity.

Three swipes across a frosted pane
Layer after layer revealed
Brought to sharp focus. (the whole)

Not the slow developing of a photograph
In a dark room.
But three quick splashes of paint across canvas.

(thoughts on imagism.
Not an imagist poem.)

Milk and Ice Cream

Never ever drink milk after ice cream.
It is one of the more disgusting sensations
That taste and temp bring to the tongue.

Fresh and frothy from the fridge
Cold and clear with cake or cookies,
Somehow doesn't do the same with its close cousin.

Ice cream, sweet derivative.
Cold and creamy, with flavours unlimited
Imaginative and almost always welcome

The tongue, delighted, pleased and soothed
Is treated to this dessert. Sometimes, after
Perhaps it thirsts.

Water might do well, drawn from a well, or tap
But milk always gets chosen once
Until the memory teaches better.

Alone, both cold and clear, creamy and sweet
but not overly so.  Apart, different
Similar and related. Set apart by scale and relativity.

From its happy tricks and twisting, the tongue
Is dipped and muddled.  Milk coats its side
With lukewarm sludge, sour and thick with mubleh

The glass shows coolness, condensation
But the tongue would disagree.
Ice cream's last bite spoiled in memory

The tongue would have us cleansed.

I remember mother's milk
Love and sustenance established
Over time and time again.

Weaned perhaps a year or two
My newborn sibling takes this treat
I would like some, too?

Sure, a little in a cup - the baby returned to the breast
My memory fails again.
This sweet nurture, nectar without flower, sour.

Unstandable. The tongue rejects
What once it shrieked and clamoured for.
But I digress.

Never drink milk after ice cream.
The tongue will taste them differently
And you will be left with a sad face and a mak mlah  bleuugg.

It might be inherent, but I think it's
an impression.  I think you agree.
It's me that's different, my tongue. Both fridge and freezer preserve well.

Try putting one hand in hot water, and one in cold.
Put both in water-room-temperature and see science!
But never drink milk after ice cream.

Life

Time. Tricky, bending and warping
Something always. and Never. Someone
Made it up. Named it, defined it.

How long is a second? The brush of eyelashes on my cheek.
An hour? A yoga session in a room without a clock
A minute. A yawn - a stretch - a groan. and a Day with nothing
to show for it.

It makes sense, is Natural.  The world rotates, the shadows
Always slink around the globe. Which revolves around the sun.
Seasons cycle round and round on and on
Affecting trees and frozen frogs and people who need to
Improve the world for lack of adaptation.

It makes no sense. The numbers on a digital face, or analog.
In cement trees it is hot in the winter and cool in summer
Light, constant day or night.  Mark this passing to structure
Lives.  Busy workers busy living busy busy lives.

Early, late. On time.  Like a bridge. Can you jump off it? On
Time.  Outside of it. Over it. Under it. Other-preposition it.
Immortal, this something that doesn't exist. Never did

Where's the point? You'll find it at the tip, that sharp tapering
Extremity. Needle or hand.  I keep both hands on my face
Fearing that you'll see my body, or worse
Understand it.  Because you don't need me

You always have me, bits of sand under your skin,
Slipping through the glass.  Cinderella running out.
An illusion as real as thought. As real as life.

Don't mind me. But you do, for fear you'll miss me.
But do. Please do. Just do. Be. Don't mind me.
I'm not even really here.

A nod for convenience, that is fine.
A sundial in the garden - aesthetically pleasing.
Hello. Goodbye. Carry on

And please, Have a Good Time.

Writing

Reading is wonderful. Reading is escape
Writing is hard. Writing is work.

I can float along in some other world
Another person
With other-world rules
And other-full friends.

The pace sinks into
My pulse.
.
..
.
..I live and love and laugh
And sometimes cry or
Flinch

No, I don’t think I’ve ever actually flinched.
But I cringe over imagined embarrassment for another
Or worry.

It’s beautiful
And real.

But writing means looking inside
Examining my mind
The mind
The subject, the thesis, or plot, or detailwork. Understanding.

I have so many stories, lined up on shelves
In paper and hardcover
Tucked under my bed and stacked on the floor
One or two under the towels in a cupboard in the bathroom.
On my computer, any computer, saved to my favourites
Stories shared, unpublished, completed and uploaded.
For my entertainment.

I have so many stories, lining my mind
Replayed before bed, scenarios detailed
Ideas in doodles, thoughts as I walk in the cold morning air
Unwritten. Always unshared.
Because of the problems. Some block. The mood. The work.
I can escape when I read, when I dream, but when I write, this escape
Becomes something.

Needs to be faced. Wants to be known.
The pressure is more powerful than a mood, than a block.
It envelops and controls.
It subverts and disallows.

Perfection and necessity, where movement is impossible.

But sometimes everything clicks.
Or it’s not right right away but you write right away anyway and the block melts away.
By the end, you’ve begun, and you can go back and fix it
But not always because sometimes it gets stuck like that.
But that’s fine sometimes.