DESPERATE

the lost know how to be found they are the dust of failures and the chance for success they court the sun worship the moon and question the shadow following behind they hum an unfamiliar song remembering parts and the parts offered up for another try at something, anything

A BAG OF SALVATION

words on stone as angels pass over where clouds hold tight the soul of belief as winds push back and then forward to the promise at the highest point where air is fresh like cool water filling your spaces washing onto your shoreline the best of all parts

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

SOFTLT ABOVE

the last clouds of day are rooms over the ocean, curtains of moisture reabsorbed, exposing a a carpet of stars, glistening sweetness nourished by angels as we trespass beneath heaven

INSIDE VOICE

the gray of shadow light bending, fragments of words like wrought iron angel wings kneeling within a drizzle of mist surrounding trees shed of leaves, desperate against seasons strength, fail to retain the youth of spring and summers shade the moon rises strong, casting a glance over night

WHERE ROADS BEGIN

we are the leaves of autumns fall clouds watch over us with breezes shredding softly the passing of summer its more than words on paper as the voice within steps aside the unfamiliar and familiar while time and gravity bend the shadows we are haunted by

PARTS OF EVERYTHING

the cafĂ©   suspended strings of white lights, like stars pointing the way   shadowed tables, people talking, whispering, listening, leaning inward for the words   waiters in aprons angling between tables   welcome aromas red cloth napkins, anxious expecting eyes   waiting is the gift finally received  

SALT AIR

on the crowded sidewalk he felt his hands were lost   day was slipping silently into a breezy evening   the aroma of salt air filled the pocket of his senses   city lights robbed the glory of stars making faint a crescent moon   he mumbled a prayer like church candles soul dripping   … More SALT AIR

HE WAS HOME

the language of keys in the lock,   an abrupt shutting signaling the adult force   he opens a cabinet, the refrigerator mumbles a few words   shuts the cellar door then moves with a slow steady gait, heavy and sure   hands sliding over the walls by habit   his shadow on the hallway … More HE WAS HOME

WITHIN

it was at the edge of horizons where eyes welcome a steady line of waves touching the senses, dripping from clouds hiding in shadows evenings and nights and familiar songs   the years are unstoppable, a collection words, drifting in breezes   but not forgotten