pink to red

like the gentle hint in my saliva cranks to 11
so this thought wrecks me
sockets saturate and flood waters turn all heads
know news to speak of

this young gunslinger glides with promise
His un-scared coin un-flipped.
fingers met with their match in focus
on edge with my own boundary
on outs with my own insides
inside i too curl with greatness unwarranted.
Yielding in this case
(all case?) I pace with will to win
his head back to a brain filled future...
whose head?
"young boy faced boy" I'd callous your hands to soften your heart
you have got to start on down your chosen path.
I'll be here when you merge back from the black.
I'll be here when you unclog and clear the fog.
I'll be here
.............so come, join us as we glide.

lost and found

I sit in silence
waiting for the whisper. of Lighting and Thunder!
or mice
or feathers. I untether my heart
and before I start it is gifted back with a mitigation.
Such frustration in a wide angle shot.
yet as tight shots go it is skilled in His trust.
I fight the dust that fights to find me still.
I will and I must bring back to ballast.

Why do I fight when I know I am right?
can I not just veer left to avoid the cleft?
yet that centering motion has many a meaning.

Translation:
I'll continue to be foolish if G-d deems it necessary.

a bright and shining dream

A Bright and Shining Dream


i called on that current conquered fear
with relapse on pendulum swing back.
and the tin can string gave to my ear
peace like a bridge without any crack.

and what is list? Mr. Difranco wants the
names and dates and times
Though I want the rhymes, I'll be happy for vague-ery

The smog is clearing.

I'll tell yew the meaning if you ask
(please ask)
My new task is chewed up trees with a pretty please
and ribbons and bows for good measure.
letters and new habits to fill them are just on the edge.
such prodding of the ribs also paints Van Gogh like B-E-A-Uty.

my prayer is that I will still hear if yew ask
(please ask)

uncaring and self centered

shrunken and stiff,i am without water.
You did not beat. it. out.
with all the warmth this winter can muster, were you wise to unplug?
What am I? vexed vapor in your vision. can you not hear heart break at your door post?
can you not see me spinning while I wipe out? Oh that's right I have no track listing on your iTunes. I shift this from side to side, leaning right then left. (right then wrong?) I dwell in the waver and make fixed my position. center of silence, screaming at you to get eyesight in your daylight. no hook no bait yet I wait, with well tuned sense, for a bite. be it ever so slight, it might lead land ward.

ahh, such fancy folly. I seek to shed that skin with heart as sleeve.
I want to be done to those with none
.
.
.
.
i want to be done to those with none.

'might as well' or 'why wait'

dieing to tell me?

well why can't you make it? I need for you to beat this out.
I need for you to make this work while its winter.
You can't live there longer than he can.
and i'm out of complexity. one subject and then a verb.
am I to begin stealing for you? mementos and tidbits of time filtered through the most current audio in jack mounted to my right. So I spark with every breath in. new concepts approaching in the approach. holding a mirror up with feeble weak armed gestures. I'm not asking for much, but I should. slurred, dull eyed and anemicly ambient.

all at the same time. rise to know more than you thought you could. you have the stretch with in reach. more minutes than miles, jerk from your stop. trust in that which fuels you deeply. hit the crescendo with momentum, follow through. boil it down to one. Tap my tears streaming with level 4 rapids. Keep current the electrical force from my well paced socks. I love

Evan in New York

He stood there with jaw on concrete, amazed by what man has been able to accomplish. neck craned as if he might see the top or crisply see the point where they stopped. No such luck. the crowds brushed by pushed on by the tradition of being rushed. destinations would not be reached today. all time would stop today, and that was exactly why Evan was here. He looked for the lockers he heard of down below but it must have only been created out of convenience. How else could an untrained prophet explain the darkness that lived, oozed, eminated from this place.

Evan took the string of glass beeds from his Grandmothers collection out of his pocket. His awe, combined with the bustle, got the best of him. The beeds were nocked from his hand. they hit the floor with a clatter that only Evan found ear shattering. Having broken free they scattered, not unlike a billiard trick shot. Every sphere found a pocket secret or otherwise. Evan was unsure of how he would find the high place. Just as his heart hit bottom he felt the light hand of hope lifting him from the frantic search to reclaim even one of the beeds.

Once again he was standing but this time his eyes were focused staight ahead. the glint of his path glowing brighter in front of him.

"premi" or "oh so small cute"

weary but well
as has been at every request
subtle distraction...the door gently shuts with click and tap
I project to far so I get blinding nowness,
(I greet my crooked red friend)
funny freedom
I am bound, as I desire, but where is what the weighs the wonder.
hits at this helium heart.
shifted but always advancing upward.