see what you’re not, in order to be who you’re not.

“Heaven and Earth” – Blitzen Trapper.

those wandering times were
a wayward sea-
with us adrift on its swift
currents-
is there an end beyond the
horizon?
we watched it day and night-
a giant sun bursting eagerly
over the starting line-
and falling back wearily beneath
it-
a secretive moon casting its
shadowy glaze before descending
quietly below the surface-
those wandering times were
a wayward sea-
with us adrift on its swift
currents-
drawing nearer and nearer
to that crimson horizon-
we seemed so close-
but it was never a matter of
distance-
a picture perfect afternoon-
spent absorbing sunlight
from within cold walls-
the sounds of life humming
outside those four corners
like an old tune-
a companion in your ear-
i speak to you
through written words-
you see me by what is read-
through alphabetical
expressions-
the contents of a heart
spilled through the tip of a
pen-
and stenciled onto a coarse
page-
always-
until my lips meet the crimson
horizon-
those wandering times
were a wayward sea-
with us adrift on its swift
currents-
there is no end beyond the
horizon-
and yet we will continue to
tread those waters*

Sunlight like a watercolor-

That opaque density

Painted delicately on an afternoon

Wall-

Stillness so quiet that it rings

Out in your ears like a tornado siren

In spring-

Summer skin-

Soaked gingerly in the yellow of

The day-

Sits beautifully nearby-

The outside rays dance

Gracefully over every curve-

Eager shadows cleverly join in-

And warmly envelop each exposed

Limb

With a bottomless hunger-

I sit, peacefully-

Wearing nothing on my face

But a thin smile-

And eyes half closed at the

Thought of such precious

Moments-

Love soaked and laced with the

Aroma of adoration-

Such moments drape over my

Thoughts like a quilt in

January-

And give them solace-

Nothing compares to the

Comfort of resting within

The embrace of your summer

Shade*

You should have seen him
When the sun was shining-
You should have met him when the
Blue of the moon still lingered
On his face,
And the sprinkle of distant stars
Still reflected on his eyes-
There was a time when teeth
Were visible
As lips parted for a smile
Or laugh-
There was a time when his walk
Was tall, and his head was held
As high as summer trees-
There was a time when words flowed
From his mouth like a swollen river-
And the aura of adventure seeped from
His pores like august sweat-
There was a time when dreams
Spilled over into reality, and became
Aspiration-
You should have seen him when the sun
Was shining-
What a sight that was-
You would have enjoyed his
Company-
You would have valued his
Friendship-
You would have missed his
Smile-
Perhaps you still do-
There is a midnight that cloaks him-
And his eyes cannot be seen-
His voice cannot be heard-
And his dreams are scattered
Like November leaves-
But his heart remains-
It beats with a rhythmic
Consistency
Whose stride even he can’t break-
He will re-emerge-
Like a bear from slumber-
Lumbering anxiously out of a restful
Pause-
He will re-emerge-
As blossoms do in spring-
He will re-emerge-
Just as the sun rises each day-
And perhaps you will enjoy his
Company once more-
Perhaps you will once again
Witness his true smile-
There is no doubt that the
Sun will rise again-
Lips will part for a smile
Or laugh-
And dreams will at last
Become reality*

We sat there once,
On the cusp of night-
Folds of love rippling
Through the dark stillness-
My heart was swollen with
The thought of you-
My mind wandered
At the sight of you-
And drove me wild with
Youthful tenderness-
We sat and gazed into the
Night sky-
Eager dreams-
As plentiful as the distant
Stars-
Dreams that melded into
Reality,
And created an overwhelming
Mix of mystery and wonder-
I glanced at you and saw
The broad sky reflected in
Your eyes-
Twinkling stars-
Deep unknown-
And it was me behind them-
Wading through the quiet
Black-
Wanting nothing more than to
Sail the dark sea straight
Through to your soul-
There are moments in life
Where secrets become
Fact-
And the unknown becomes
Transparent-
We sat there once-
On the cusp of night*

the ledge has been toed
before-
eyes have been closed-
the warm wind gusted and
nudged-
senses were tight as the
equilibrium was checked and
nerves were stilled-
we’ve all been here before,
amid swollen breezes,
thick with the scent of
dreams-
quenched only when they are
swallowed with a heavy gulp of
now-
dreams quenched-
as if watering a plant-
the ledge has been toed
before-
salty mist tasted by trembling
flesh-
clouded vision wiped by shaky
digits-
stolen emotions cured by
emptiness and stillness-
the ledge has been toed before-
toothy grins swept downstream-
flowers blossomed under the
weight of toil-
energy spent tilling a garden
of sand and salt-
inching closer and closer-
until the wind is fully felt-
until all is condensed into that
single breath-
the one that begins and ends in
one fell swoop-
the one that tests the aura and purpose
of the ledge itself-
willows whisper outside
somewhere-
butterflies land and glide behind
solid eyes-
cold oceans ebb and flow-
hearts beat and wander-
until all is condensed into that
single breath-
the one that begins and ends
in one fell swoop-
the one that turns dreams into
reality-
and reality into now*

Hunger can be a gift, if used correctly; those deep rumblings have the distinct power to kill you, or create you.

Being next to you reminds me
Of who I am-
Because where I am has become
A bit cloudy-
As cloudy as lost October mornings
Spent in mutual admiration-
As admirable as wayward September
Afternoons, awash in the comfortable glow
Of laughter-
Being next to you reminds me
Of many things,
As my head is so full of anecdotes, and
Tales, and untapped emotional
Wells-
Gold mines of randomness-
Catacombs of undiscovered thoughts-
Being next to you reminds me of
Why they’re buried-
Being next to you reminds me of why
They were submerged-
Mine is a world where such depths
Are commonplace-
Where excavations are a daily
Occurrence-
And where re-burial is often a
Necessity-
It’s a world that’s individual to the
Inhabitant,
And is tailor made to his beliefs,
Goals,
And dreams-
Being next to you reminds me
Of who I am-
Because each new year brings along
With it the changes required for
Growth, in any direction-
It’s easy to forget, in this day and age-
It’s easy lose your direction on the
Paths placed in front of you-
But it’s just as easy to remember-
To allow those precious memories to
Linger sweetly on the brain,
To be savored deliciously on crisp
December nights-
Never let go-
Of what you hold true-
Despite the depth at which it’s
Buried-
Hold on with whatever is left-
Keep your grasp tight,
And you’ll preserve a small portion
Of yourself-
When I’m next to you, I remember-
When I’m next to you, I’m one breath
Closer to finding me*

Remnants of a storm

Greet me on a Monday morning-

Cool, thick air, fresh on my

Nostrils-

Inhaled steadily and slowly,

Like pipe smoke-

Lightning, flashing overhead

Like distant sparks,

Draws my attention-

And I gaze over easily into those

Low, heavy clouds-

Soggy and dense-

The rain dripping easily-

A calm, persistent trickle-

It’s as if the clouds are weary from

Spewing such a storm-

I lay in my bed-

You next to me-

Your naked body warm against

Me-

Your legs tangled into mine like

Rope-

Your tiny whispers tingling through

Me like an electric current-

Your tired, muffled laughter resonating

Like the far off thunder-

The water soaked breeze

Sneaks over us like a light blanket,

And vacations over our nostrils

Like sweet sediment-

Your beauty is amplified by this stark

Aroma-

This gloomy incense-

And the love behind your eyes is as

Robust and mysterious as this morning

Mist-

Your brush your hand gently over me-

And it feels as soft and delicate as the

Wind streaming through the window-

This is my calm-

This is my peace-

This is my ideal,

My reason*