Floating Home (day 1493)

I am floating as if observing
And not returning home.
I am a ruffling cloud nearing dusk
Upon a serene and hot evening
At the lake smelling like campfire.
I am nonsense trickling off into night
In rattles and clacking,
As lonesome restlessly lays naked
Aside discarded sheets
And a light layer of sweat.

Morning God (day 1076)

When I awake in my mother’s freezing basement,
I don’t jump awake like a bloody early morning quack.
I wish to the good god that swept me to sleep
That she’d count all my stars one more time
And whisper sweet nothings into the back of my mind.
To be honest, the sweet nothings are always floating there.
They never leave and rightly so;
Space head filled with clouds.
No, the sweet nothings are what keep me stifled
And snuggled and re-counting my re-counting
Until the moment I absolutely must arise.
You know, that moment that passed a few re-counts ago.
Eyes closed.

Dosages of Love (day 817)

Gypsy Queen I see you
Floating there in your sheen
It’s bogus here this madness
Dazzling as you sing
I’ve splendor-ed into gladness
Hoping as I pray
Fantasy at its finest
Goldens and their boldness

Perfect fluttering delicateness
You’ve cried for much too long

Did you whisper mildly?

I couldn’t muster up the gumption
To take you into lust
But long it lasted when we held
Onto the shackles of flirtation

Did you delight as much as I
I hope it was as dashing
Enchanted as we’ve just met
Forsake me for all I’m worth

Black Licorice / Nobodies Darlings (day 720)

I remember watching you dance
It’s a slow song and there’s more emotion in your face
Then the hands floating around unconsciously
It’s a mood, a sly smile
A knowing smile that you know I’m smiling
We ain’t nobodies darlings
We’re crawling around on the floor
Dirty knees and loose nails in the parquet flooring
Making dreams in the air with punctuation marks
Black licorice tea in oversized beer mugs

I’ve indulged here all day
Fruitful indulgence without even leaving the bed
Sharing gospel truths and confident encouragement
Fretting woes with stronger advice

It’s the good days that last
Scaring away the drought like a vulture
One hundred miles in the air and fading fast
Broken in the land but hope on the horizon
It’s summer time, and nobodies left alone

Thorny Patches and Sun Bleached Logs (day 695)

Gulls call out to friends floating away
Upon tides pushing this way and that
Messy streams of salty water
Crisscross a retreating ocean’s exposé
Thick stalks of grass bloat the shoreline
That’s overwhelmed by sun bleached logs
Spewed upon the edges
As if laid there in organized inventory
While off in the distance a black tornado of birds
Hover around the surface searching
Blackbirds sing from thorny blackberry patches
That separates green from thousands of shades of grey
Mimicking darkening clouds rolling above
Ready to send droplets propelled by gravity
But off in the distance, upon the horizon
Voluptuous and impressive clouds
Change from glaring white to navy blue
Interspersed with teal shades of open sky
And a darkened silhouette of a distant island
Looms ominously like the jetty
That breaks the horizon line into greys and sky blues

Iona Beach

Eternity (day 607)

I’ve fallen into a pool of bliss
One that reaches up
And smothers my every thought
With kindness and feeling

I’ve been taken away to an oasis
On an island of ten thousand floating orchids
Where sun hazes each thought into a dance
With graceful arms that arch and moan

I’ve lifted my head up to the sky
Seen the clouds dance before my eyes
And smiled at them
Allowing them to feel my gracious delight

Floating (day 432)

I keep floating between that which I know
And that which eludes me in times of need
I keep on guessing at habits which I know
A game meant for madmen and the self-conscious
One at which I heed not the cautions of
And plunge headlong in: full of heart
Ignoring the darkness looming ahead
Anticipating the rocky ledges that mark the path
Catching me at most of the corners
Scraping my knees as I tumble forth
Then again, I find myself afloat
Wandering in this listless dream

Nobbin (day 360)

Floating through the air
Fishing out the last
Remains of indiscriminate bastards
Fuck the loose mentality
That we’re all ok
Fuck the smart girl
She has never worn dignity
Like the whore walking Main

Swim the mighty canal
Float the gnarly seas
Figure the angels wings
As they cloud your sober mind
Unlike the hairy bastard
Who prances around like the fool
Fuck the merry longfellow
When he turns around to glance a blow

Then the tulips that have been stolen
From the figured lands of the holy
They’ve been tainted like a bastards tongue
Of the King’s royal litter
But the holy men that haven’t kissed me
Shall linger by their pole
The wine toting maidens
Shall throw eyes my way once more

It’s business as usual
Down at the Hawley; torn and blown
I’m not here to pull on your
Thunder you’ve bloated with
I’m not going to steal what matters
To your lambs and whithered tongues
I’ve left your silly buggers
To dance your awkward dance

So hug your merry bastards
Lay your fingers down
I’ve left your countenance long
I’ve let you pull your fingers as you may
Don’t whip your hair
Your greasy hair
I’ve worn your stripes
I’ve calmed your mare

Nobbin, bloody nobbin