Dips in the treeline at sunset
cause me to think of that…
…I wonder what love truly is.

Am I small like a flea;
beneath some strange cosmic sway?

Are my ‘creative’ thoughts but trick;
pedestrian and terrestrial to nature?

Things appear pasted
back from imagination
with subtle added meaning.

The anatomy of clouds
brings me back to that;
the aspect I always notice.

It’s like an arrangement of aroma
which is covered by exposure.

So much time is surrendered
to assemble an understanding of
this wonder.

crimson cogs carry victims of infamy;
products of artistry’s fatalistic qualities.

cobain got swallowed up by flames;
cast by his own tainted reflection.

yet canvas was opportunistic,
reaping spoils of slow demise.

death dares to expose that heroes,
would dissolve if not for mortality.

sinking stones are far more dramatic,
than any one of life’s more pacific pools.

The night sky is overcast
with no bright stars visible
yet want surpasses moon high
to wishing wells far beyond
where togetherness is cast

My yearning takes to the air
in hopes of finding you there

If desire could strip clouds
we would share constellations
within each precious moment
unhindered by the darkness
and this distance which shrouds

My heart travels the expanse
seeking our eternal dance

Honesty in the literal ghetto
sinks into warm flesh like a knife
The virtual one is a little more subtle
with cancers which move like glaciers
to chill unsuspecting spirit slowly

Choking on ice particles
is different from drowning

Mud puddles aren’t always made by downpours
often wet slides off forms of world-weariness

My mouth might even stutter
if I truly possessed tongue
beyond iced excrement

I am lead-lined glass
Providing shielding
Yet externally
For nothing props up
These innards broken.

At least it feels that way
In moments of pain
While I lie awake
Fearing those nightmares
Shall return again.

I am lead-lined glass
Shined of smooth surface
Yet beneath is death
That familiar fiend
To quash all beauty.

At least it feels that way
In my room’s darkness
As thoughts turn to loss
And odds of falling.

You resemble that sought after chalice
of Arthurian legend spotless;
filled to rim with pomegranate juice
and sweetened intention to address
that which my full spirit does confess:

A love so deep, heart needs no excuse.

Remove from equations all malice;
cleansed by Aurora Borealis.

Deduce numeration for night stars
and add to infinity what is ours

brown brawl
emerges
from struggle

colors
produce the
same shadows

music
casts awkward
false echoes

walking
loses steps
forgotten

time mocks
scenery
unguarded

bliss dwells
within your
soft presence

purpose
is a town
we’d charter

famine
could never
blight ocean

while we
skimmed across
its water

Stellar soft options
rise from makeshift steam
of Irish coffees
to contest the distance
and call forth remembrance
somehow in the future stored

Conceptions of breathing
not counter to imagination
offer heart salvation
found in approaching smiles
betrothed to bones awaiting
a brew which feels so close by

Early evening mist
beyond monochrome design
caresses soul emergent
with pre-existent beauty
found in fixed destination
seeming more than eventual
in constellations I have found

Home-bound ambition beyond
biological urge or carnal desire
uncloaks beauty’s core of fire
granting to intention pure ability
to counter existing barriers

Perspiration no longer points
to desperation or random cling
rather to the center of everything
where true immolation resides
to remove by flame restraints

Before existence was sifting through
multiple streams to discover gold dust
now heart’s combination is explained
through renewed understanding of shades
given love’s mystery which I merely embrace