TWISTED WIND

The wind was the change   granite against paper   shadows unfrozen running from a forbidden sleep   the faithful pray the fastest get to safety first   rational thoughts create sweat and pull out the tears   the bones of trees rattle xylophone’s into jealousy   shoes and those without step rightly with concern … More TWISTED WIND

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

WITHIN THIS

An unseasonable difference the bouquet of destiny crowded within the magic of sleep the region between unknown footsteps unsure voices while the fullness of gravity prevents the ability for touch   this unexplained element of drama remains bazaar where particles of words raise the curtain on another morning  

JUST UNDER

Night travel the vehicle of sleep a voyage beneath eyelids a place of forgiveness absent of answers voices remembered faces forgotten   a little bit of heaven from a preachers heart the sound of hell from a gamblers hands   favorable moons the burn of lemons and the taste of honey   crossroads in the … More JUST UNDER

DRIP, DRIP

A passive silver moon dripped its light through lace curtains into my room   the faucet in the bathroom dripped with precise regularity   both dripping worlds invoking their presence on me   there is no wisdom gained being in the middle listening and watching to the drip, drip from my shelter of awake between … More DRIP, DRIP

FALLING THROUGH

The area between dreams is the thirst of sleepers. They drink in the invisible waiting for troubled angels to produce from silvery darkness a face in the mirror a nameless misfortune or the salt of visions with piercing shadows, and familiar voices; the wrinkles of life not available during the day.        

NIGHT TRAVELER

There is a vision inside of everyone. A vision of something distant from reality, yet persistent, attempting to create belief. A flash of honey sweetens the dreams that we hide in our pillows. Stories tightly wrapped in linen.   A fresh song or story taps its way to the surface, turning over the stone of … More NIGHT TRAVELER

MEDIUM WELL

The official opening of day lifts the blinds off night.  The worms Of dreaming feast on the history of sleep, devouring the angels that attempt to free me.  A warm fresh breeze softens morning. People in cars search for fields, escaping the wickedness of the game of where they should be. Its easier for the … More MEDIUM WELL

THE HEART OF SONG

Two blocks into Harlem.  White shirts, black ties, flowered dresses, patent leather shoes, tattoos and beautiful hair; the streets are always alive.   The beat mixes up.  The man with a full beard smiles, exposing a picket fence for teeth.  Conga drums call out the dance in people.  Red and purple cotton hats jive like … More THE HEART OF SONG

NOT FAR FROM HERE

The sidewalk is a stream, a playground, an escape without arrows to point the way out. Fallen stars, the scattering of dreamers believing in second chances, light the city at night. Children remain close by, guarded by the fences of stern warnings.  Their visions asleep as they accept the ideas of less.  Surrounding aromas are … More NOT FAR FROM HERE