They are coming

These young ones

Forging their way

Through the tangled swamp

Of old man division and hate

With their eyes fixed on one thing –

Justice

And they are singing

As they go

“If compassion and love

Rule your heart

You have nothing to fear

From us”

is it death
to uproot thoughts
from the living landscape
of this garden mind
and bury them alive
on the screen
where rigor sets in
forever frozen
the dynamic into the static?

if so,
then I am slaying
and the bodies
are piling up these days
as one creative corpse
after another
is dumped into
this trench of a page
where they are embalmed
and forgotten

this was as clear
as he could be

an observation
of a single blue flower
faded, bent by the wind
before a boiling sea

and it was everything
and it was nothing

simplicity

some moments are perfect

brief, bright points of languid

amidst the raucous

amidst the unnerving

like hot black coffee

in the cool bright sun

a bitterness once hated

now perfectly married to a life

sweet enough to bleed into it

no need for sugar these days

as the street’s symphonic noise

waits to be understood

here i am
right here
write now
wherever you are
i am here
we are speaking

a b i d i n g

together
son, daughter,
wife, brother
sister, mother
grandchild, friend
descendent

in these binding words
that run through the you
that run through the me
here we are in silence

look for me
in these dark corners
between the lines
and you will find
i am the soft whisper
of quiet thought
hiding in your mind
embracing you

here

now

forever.

Sometimes artists channel truth even when they do not contain it within themselves.

This is how even the ugliest of people can communicate beauty when they least expect it.

sometimes i need to rip out my heart
so i can know that it’s still there;
that it still beats hot in my dead hand
telling me that there is life left yet
to be wrung like ink from a cloth
into the deskside jar
that i stab with my pen

come goddess of endorphin
and mainline me to another world
where my mind is carbon fiber
and filled with honeyed thoughts
of us by the black sand salty sea
where the carving wind threatened
to send you tumbling toward me