I access warm parts of my heart
With a soft center spot.
I dig for that whisper that tells me my way.
And then, there I am,
Standing with open arms
Outstretched for grabbing.
Open wide to catch all that I can,
To be loud and obnoxious,
To be silent and free.
To be home and happy; family.
I am not alone in this.
I am not standing here;
Soft music serenading
My lonely heart.
I am not a typist
Rhythmically dancing to
Magical clicks spelling off
Ransom notes of varying
Degrees of importance.
But my fingernails are delicately pruned,
So wands and spells can expertly roll – Full of life and other such necromances –
Off and away and beyond
These simple imaginations of a man,
Not alone, but lonely.
I want to fall into a little break in space
Like angels upon lazy-boys,
Smoking cigarettes with the nuns.
My open mind shifts constantly
Between a bad habit and good morning sun,
Where there’s no better maker,
No fuller shade of gray
To take care; once was into the future.
French rhymes upon my tongue,
Little tea cup stains around my working scribbler,
Two dollars for the road,
And my mind’s not made up yet.
I’m losing track of what I once thought.
Short strings of innocence have begun to clot
Like some tumultuous rukus house
On a Thursday night stagette.
Holy Aurora.
I’ve left home to dance, and I don’t feel any different;
I’m undone in my head and I can’t sing anymore,
So please god, open the sky to me,
Open and bring me sweetly on home
In the coming’s I’m getting,
And I don’t feel it anymore.
Suddenly I awoke
To see a light [of day]
Where sun streamed
Into my heart to say
“Hello.”
I am lost.
I am scraping little lines
That have never been enscribed,
To make innocence
Fear what is left far behind.
I enlist savory moments
To stay for the show,
Letting hair down
Shoes loose,
In long shadows of denial.
But in spite my madness,
My carrying on as such and forth,
I am lost again;
Awoken by first frost.
Where do we pass;
Like fire
Slowly breathed
In cold night’s darkness.
I am a sentinel,
I am a midnight choir
Singing lonely at
Half past midnight.
But longness
Isn’t innocent,
Silently gliding
Around glowing lights,
Freezing hearts
And scaring darkness.
Wretched though my soul be crying,
I’ve shon like the winter.
In an ice glow December
Show me a ghost
And I’ll bring blasts fury.
I scrambled into wrinkled corners
Flipping pages frantically,
Leading with my one good hand
As if I were demon.
Like tiger I was made a crowd
To pounce as wildfire upon my goal,
Shrieking loudly as I moved
It was my prayer come rounding zen.
Pass through my heart as I whisper now,
I was born to be let free.
Let my whispers carry melancholy,
For my lover forever tarries.
I am a rambling rose letting great seas
Tumble me deep down below.
And let my eyes gently close
With a good nights sleep;
Old tree fallen in the night.
