Monday, March 29, 2010


Outside a rainy day window
is a bird perched on a power line.
Pinkish hue on slick feathers
while rain drops cut fall upon its beak.
Staring straight into my room,
it wonders who is inside these warm white walls.
The window gazer sings his songs about the human,
asking why he sits on a chair inside.
It turns its head left to right,
and back around to look at the orange sky.
Amidst conifers, phone calls
water and temperate breezes
it turns again to look at the same tree
I always turn to on days of worn weather and
dead thoughts.
It could fly anywhere it pleases,
come and go alone or
with another song singer.
It could stare through any window,
feast its black eyes upon all the trees it could reach.
Long neck, bright beak, flushed feathers;
it chose the view in front of me.

On the Way Down

Falling down face first into the dirt
while the wind brings the fog into an early spring heart.
Brought deep below the surface from
wishes held too high above a head,
he only wishes to hold his dreams
in between sun-kissed and sweat soaked arms.
Impounded by thought and long sought stares,
his eyes never met the light at the end of the
snow storms and blank gazes.
He forgot how to forgoe forgetting,
knowing that it is never really possible.
Falling off the cliff and
the rain was coming down slowly.
Out of the gray fog came a reaching arm,
only to pull the broken son from the rocks and
canyon cliffs of tomorrow.
She too knew,
it was all too much.
And knowing this, she knew what strength it took
to lift a heavy soul up from the depths
of the emptiest riffs in a life.
Staring into the words he gave a soft soul,
both arms and voices pulled each other up from
the past's ashes as the young man
was falling through the cracks.
“Just do not let go,
remember what you said.”
Recalling plain and well that
he still never learned to forget,
both walked away from the ruins and canyons.
The sun began to rise,
tomorrow will be coming soon.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Worn Away Veils (Through the Water)

Waiting besides brick walls
has finally set into brimstone.
Watching her eyes fall into herself
as she smiled with the sun shining upon her,
on a cloud freckled spring day.
With laughter she revealed what is behind
the faint painted morning veil that I myself
carried with me.
Breathing in flames and bleeding green leaves
I pass her voice over my tongue to taste
the words that cannot reach my throat.
She laughs somewhere;
in her sneakers buried into the dirt
eyes submerged in what holds to herself.
If only I could see out of the decrepit old veils
and into her eyes.
This old mask in front of my face only
turns my eyes back into my head.
Time has come to lift so I can see
what she has been gazing at while I have been
staring too long into the cool waters of
warm days to come.
A mask will be too much to bear as escaping heat
will again crawl from my skin.
Hot blood is rising slowly
my pockets are being emptied
and all that is to gain are
visions clear like long awaited water.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

"What Are You Doing Tomorrow?"

I saw the picture of us all in the sunlight. It was faint, but a remainding reminder of what was once everyday life. The warmth of summer air was a gift, and as I would wake up with the sun shining on me I was always reminded of great moments to come. It is getting close to a new spring again. I wonder where all the old phone calls have gone, where all the heat stricken roads have finally led to, and to where endless nights have found themselves. I looked back down at the picture on my phone. It was hard to swallow all the nostalgia as it tried to shove itself down my throat. Sighing was no good, and all that came out instead was a mute breath. My head ended up in my hands as I thought about everyone I spent a night with, all the places seen, everything that has been left unsaid. All the smiles inside me lit up the 8 P.M. dusk. I closed the picture, and my eyes followed suit. My window was open, and my room was warm as sweet notes were reaching into my ears. Beautiful days were in the back of my mind. For a moment, I was timeless.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

And the Walls All Fell

Sleepwalking for too many hours.
Shaking hands in a tremble of scarcity.
Only walking to be lifted above by
familiar faces.
Small rooms, large laughs for a night.
Wind for another day I guess.
To think of a summer spent like so,
it would be too much to look out the
Hope is a boundary.
Merely a boundary that should be broken.
We will wake up soon.
Or maybe,
it is just me.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Two Days of Wind

Word have wrought weight
off your teeth and into the center of
one year and multiple mess.
Early spring,
and the mud breaks free from
traps set by ice.
Vestiges of blank stared days
send messages in the night.
“Come down up the stairs,
do not fall,
your thoughts carry anchors.”
I never find the time to say
anything in reply.
Fingernails are still down to the skin.
All the pens on the dusty desk are lined up in neat lines.
Sleeping still when clouds come to
sweep the day away.
Amidst ruins and broken trails
a smile lifts my head off the floor.
Having a head in the clouds only
ever makes one blind.
Wandering makes for the merrier
with a beautiful face holding up
a map for me.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Taking Back Time

Through my window have seemed to have
found their ways again.
Like trails of strings of an instrument of six,
a morning unbeknown to me sings for the
flowers that it births.
Counting colors on white walls will do no good
as menageries beyond melancholy branch beyond
old snows and dead leaves.
Maps tell of shores in mind while
bare legs tell of stories of familiar trails.
In voices and night time whispers
the sun again becomes familiar with skin
while the soil begins to take shape underneath the feet.
Beds have become to warm to lay in.
Nevertheless, the earth is perfect to stand upon.
Delivered from wishes;
the warm air is now a gift for choking thought.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Past the Sky

The sun was too hot
to let the snow stay on the ground today.
As long sought footsteps made their way
through my door,
I found that it was
warm in January.
The blue sky would not allow
shadows to pass me by.
Subtlty, the light found its way into my
gliding body.
Hand in mine,
I found my way towards the sky.
Though warm on our backs,
the sun was not hot enough
for us to keep from reaching
past the sky.