Flatness of my heart
Oscillates up and down,
Up and down.
Up and down.
And up it goes with happy hopes,
Then down it comes,
Weighted against odds.
I use my Phillips screwdriver
To manage the extent to which
My heart goes up,
And my heart goes down.
Like full stops
When I’m out beyond the breakers,
My heart has water-wings
And a soothing buoyancy.
Nobody saw the pigeon I passed;
I was an angel
Holding late setting sun.
Eyes of light blue
That crawled upon edges
Of shallow stages – dimly lit.
I was the gravest,
And as time lurched
It was I whom all met.
Wonder when my foot shall sleep
Inside a better path,
For all my wishes that depart
Have fallen gracefully.
And like my step that flutters on
I shall eventually
Find my trail with out a map
Humming my favorite song.
Winter swept away my eyes,
Blinded while in memory
That lay half spent from truth,
Half lost on an innocent blue eyes
That woke with no name.
I walked backwards to confirm my footsteps –
Innocents of a broken heart.
For too many, my dear love,
Have fallen unwatched upon this cold ground.
Share this memory with my awaiting cold winter steps.
Whisper everything
You know I need to hear.
Forget all that nonsense
About niceties
And proper-like behavior.
I want disguise stripped bare.
I desire my hand in your hair.
And when the doves take flight,
I shall shine like the moon.
Cobalt skies tonight
Ripping through late summer memories
With little twinkling gremlins
And Grandma’s favorite afghan.
A sky so deep
Hearts are instantaneously ripped out
And thrown in sacrifice
Towards all that could ever be.
Where is a soul that cannot hold
A forevermore deep within
Silhouetted bits of a city
That can never sleep.
I want to swim in open waters
And feel sun upon my spine
As I practice aerobatics;
In time I shall take flight
With birds of sanctity,
Soaring with beautiful brothers.
Here I’ll claim my sight again
With an eye that sees it sees,
A heart that knows it beats,
A hand that feels it feel.
To a space that opens my chest,
My third eye to the sky!
To a lightness of my mind.
And the sun remains the same.
When twilight circles my mind like crows and shadows at the hour of feast
I wish for silence, a thousand feet deep.
A silence so lasting that breath trails off into
A frozen pane of windowless reflections,
And the moon clears it’s sleepy eyes
As it gazes over sharp backs of rocky mountains.
Stars must look different from up there, shining so bright.
I have always imagined they have different colors
As the temperature drops.
But from a thousand feet deep I can find only shadows.
I crawl upon bloody knees and fight for my own feast
Among crows and worms who, at this intimate an angle,
Scream like black night and wrinkled sheets.
I pause for a moment struggling to understand
Black lines that criss-cross my hands.
Black arcs that cap my fingernails, digging deep.
I find twilight again as thought slips from my conscience
And incoherent noise picks up again.
Your pulse is an imaginary prism,
Fixating between red, purple and rose,
Shifting with every passing moment
And lingering upon lips
Like a foreign accent.
How deeply can these hues beget
With winter’s sun
Hanging upon sky’s brow so low?
Three sides and full strides
From now until the end of time.
There is lavender
Dancing in prisms
Of our effortless hearts.
Waltzing in a sun kissed breeze,
While memories
Temporarily wash over
In happy sheep clouds
On a lemonade afternoon.