THE HAND

is a perfect flower opening with morning stretching, reaching, designing moments achieving success fulfilling needs, desires, preparing to create protecting, supporting this day this evening until night when resting dreams stir them without our permission

ALMOST

on the other side of time, the area between is crowded with shadows, broken promises and the right to be understood as changes occur like the flow of clouds, nameless, but important, almost enough to break into the blues like reliving the history of each year, after the first breath of morning as day passes … More ALMOST

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FIRST SIGHT

morning on the eyes breathing without trying, feet to the floor, a moon landing arriving, stretching like canvas dried in the sun watercolors of the room observed the mirror of truth exposes the shades of a face preparing to change washing and then leaving

ALL ROADS

all roads lead from me,   long spaces for nights blessings and mornings light as new beginnings stir the senses into full blossomed roads, where no choice is wrong,   full of miles, waysides and memories

LEANING

darkness covers the linen of skin, folding over with day lost, the sky closes out   the feel of sun warm breezes surrender to shadows replacing colors with a flat gray like layers of curtains,   the first call of night leaning into stillness  

WORDS

words slip through boundaries of light and shadow between fences posts past sleeping cats   words are strength from imagination fathoms   words become whispers in night   promises in morning   begging hurting believing following   into dreams yet to appear  

NIGHT REST

I’m on my own line   there’s no sideways just the only road I know   a nameless opening to slip through   the green grass on the other side is well past and without flavor to remember and faces forgotten   night rest now comes easy

A GRAY MORNING

The vanity of the ground was altered by a morning rain.   the meadow trembled under the wetness pulled from the sky   a linen gray horizon without sound slept overhead.        

THE VOICES

she holds close the pain careful not to break it   like a hunger she feeds it in morning speaking to it at night   grieving flows within watering the splinters of thoughts embedded in memories   helping her is not easy when the voices attack me   I know she’s still alive inside when … More THE VOICES