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It was the middle
of a January snowstorm
the winds were hailing
and we were sailing, sailing
The way you looked at me
was far more than
what was gentlemanly
and until then
I had you pegged
with mediocrity
With the sun
came the summer
and all the birds were listening
in the park
where you showed me your
true face
So here we sit
for a little bit
on this imaginary coastline
making catcalls at the water
rushing by
and all along I kept wondering
just who are you to
think you are the love
of my life
but you'd be right,
you'd be right

From the darkness
the opressive, drowning black
the suffocating weight of a thousand
in torment and in rage
bearing down
There,
a single hand was raised
like a slash of flickering
light
bursting through the wreckage
shuddering and weak,
beseeching
arms with the strength
to pull it free
The meager cry
was heard and an answering
shout of mourning rent the skies
and all the darkness hid
from the approaching light
because darkness cannot stay
where the sun shines

Ruin

It hangs
like a flightless bird
from the rafters
where the crows gather mournfully
to await the disjointed bell
It lingers like a shadow
when you turn
it turns with you
And you,
you wrap it around you
like a cloak
dressed tightly up
to your chin
and wrapped twice around
your chest so none
can get in
And I,
I am strangely drawn to it
helpless to pursue it
I cannot smell or taste or detect
its poisonous intent
it has seeped into my veins
and I am ruined

Little Bird

Yellow wings
bent in flight
searching the endless skies
for that elusive home
soaring with the wind's
everlasting delight
one look at
that endless expanse
and she laughs with joy
every spot her sight
does land
is home.

Conversations with the Sun

Wake me
when the sun fills up the sky
and spills her light
the shadows of the city
recede with the night
Waves that lent the
sails early morning flight
toss their weight against
the sand like a beating heart.
Stretch out my once tenative
limbs,
embrace the dawn that
so long eluded my
sight.
Whisper to the dawn,
I am more than just alive.

My body is a burnt-out
bottle rocket
caught in the lawnmower
the Tuesday after the fourth of July...

...this body,
just temporary.
It doesn't hold me back
from where I'm meant to be.

Where gravity ends
the loosening begins
my spine is bowing
with the entangling wind
dipping my toes into
the endless stream
lapping at my calves
washing all the dirt
and all the skin
a mindless dream
turning on its axis
for all eternity
the ticking of the clock
has no rule here
unraveling soul
like a pulled thread
where did the voices go?
I ask inside my head
I followed the ceaseless music
to your widening door
the darkness invites me in
with a feral grin
and a hailing hand
and no light
no light
can follow
that hasn't been here before