Haunting

Smokey listeners

Reaching for the shallow limbs of black

They sink and wail to discover life

And so I remain, printed and somewhat flaky 

Together, forested in fictions

I lie to myself when I stretch out of the hopeful comforts

I’m picked as bark

The dog days are quite holy; haunting 

The body was muddy and dug out of void

Being, holy as well

Peer through 

Identify me, then leave me to be, leave me alone

As I grow feral to the moans of cicadas 

I will touch the golden skies in faith

The ones I indulge in and tell stories about

Secrets

They would call me insane if they knew of the voices I have above my head
They would call me insane if I told them of my enlightened mind
So they want us to think aloud
And share all our secrets?

Persistent Light

The light stood erect in the moonlight

Attempting to project its glare

Onto the damp bay

Struggling glint cutting in bits and pieces

By the selfless oak shining in the spotlight

And as I observed through broken glass

I raise concern and a sense of identity with the persistent light

If I should admire all that survives

all that clears the ridged paths

In vigorous praise or failure

Pink

Cotton pink undertones
Close by with gentle age
She was creamy, so soft
My eyes sparkled as we met
Pixie baby looking all confused
Going for a ride with mine
I sit silent
I study her magic
The way her skin rainbows
The concern in her delicate sweet face when I leave

Reason

I always come back to sadness

Maybe it’s a shape shifting anger

Maybe we’ve hung her; together

But it’s all I ever knew, it’s whom I make true intricate love to

I inflicted upon me paired with hesitations and soon to be’s

cause well maybe I’m human

I sink through all your deadly seas

I sort through my pieces of wool and used flannels and cloth

And I touch the human in every passerby knowing it’s never enough

I touch the heart that aches with stone burning parallels

I touch the mouths through mountains of victims as the dead sings farwells

I vow to be untouched

It’s not enough to breathe in and exhale my stomach, my liver; my heart

It’s hard enough to wake alert and dress up the rest with the earth’s hardened dirt

Soul tied to a suit and some layers that aren’t mine

But to most it’s fine, some say quite divine

I couldn’t harm a fly; I wish to kill a billion

And so

I harm the self that promises to let things go (let things sow)

Burdened by the death of each solitary season

Hands pressed in pulses pleading to be granted the sights of a hermits reason

Winners war

I’m not sure of what I am feeling, my heart can break, my ego; callous
What keeps me asleep is a range to run
Emotional in wake I bake the sun
Holes of bittersweet spit up, you nuzzling my breast till numb
Turning in, on and off
Tuning off, out and in
I attempt to sing those sensitive songs, I pretend with oneself, playing once upon a time
There’s no where to go as my soul is magnetic to your salvation, even here the space of our bodies deafening
I don’t know exactly why this fight takes flight, ideal is a winners war; no casualties

Newness

What news!

The arrival

And the departure

Both equal in value and pleasure

To the adventurous wondering soul