AWAKE

the roar of blood keeps the skin from sleeping   while spirits speak the language of awake and night dreams are absorbed into the flash of neon messages directly from the mouths of angels speaking of the everlasting though even they fail to fully understand   while half notes and unanswered prayers drip like a … More AWAKE

BEHIND THE EYES

pretender of day product of night sunglasses worn at midnight   eyes behind shade painting dark darker eliminating shadows   faces move close as words find shelter within the music while night dreams blossom under plastic magnolias

THREE LEAF CLOVER

flames of messages   hand prints speaking from the wall   about a life walk down narrow alleys past back doors loves left behind storms and sun sleepless nights trials and errors   while searching for a destiny above the scatter leaning toward the shape of how it is to be   greater than the … More THREE LEAF CLOVER

GUIDED SAFELY

a gust of evening wind cools the skin while I follow a path beneath pine boughs and their sweet aroma   an opening light of the moon brushes past mists of ghosts   stars appear like diamond footsteps pointing toward home as night follows close by my side

THE LAST PICNIC

scattered at the crossroads a pair of shoes left without a note plastic flamingos broken bottles cigarettes and a purse   cactus cast shadows over sand and rock   the sun moves past the other side of barren hills   cool breezes give flight to paper plates and red napkins   while night blinds the … More THE LAST PICNIC

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  

UP THERE

The moon   a legend in the sky   a face to talk to a light to cry under   a beacon for our paths alongside rivers shorelines and late night sidewalks   we observe from here at the basement of gravity a beauty that haunts us.

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

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

WALKING HOME

A slap of cold air bruised blue the covering of my skin   A bullying wind caught me by the neck twisting my hat   yesterday’s newspaper jumped from the grasp of a fence lodging at my ankles like a homeless pup   night pulls dark over my steps.