On a Sunday afternoon, in the city,
I sat on your porch watching,
a panicked papillon dance about
(that means butterfly in French, boo)

You were running back & forth
Smiling, slamming doors & saying
it’s hot, but I sweat through
& I said, good ‘cause I like *****


So you ride your bike & keep a garden
but you don’t put your money in the bank
& I think that’s quite foolish
what about inflation my dear?

so you love cheese but you don’t drink milk
& you won’t ever fall in love
because you reckon you’d get too fed-up
with their complexities & mazes

well me neither I said, but
you stole those words from my mouth
& I have a hard time believing you
when “baby" seems to be your favorite word

You’re always saying the things I expect
& it’s what I’ve always wanted to hear
yet the simplicity is suffocating
& I’m somehow just as easy as you

& last night, when we were lying
in your room, on a bare mattress
Under the heat, I wondered if the words
pathetic,easy & empty circled your mind too

I wondered if you wondered why
we were already using terms of endearment,
why they came without effort or care, or
why we laugh & lock eyes in a week’s time

And you said you never sang aloud,
but in a moment I heard your voice tracing lyrics
& I said that’s really quite sad
& you said it’s only emotions; count yourself among the few

What an honor, what a privilege
I thought maybe we’re both lying to ourselves
& maybe you feel kinda lonely too
only because I’ve said the same before

You said I noticed that you
don’t listen to me when I speak
but then again you’re always telling stories
and I am but a woman & you are but a man

I thought I’d want to touch your feet
You reached out to hold my hand
But there’ll be distance to maintain &
I know better than to get any closer

We split asleep, turning our backs
towards mirroring walls, space enough
I dreamt I lost a lung & when I awoke
we were tangled up like ivy on ruins

This paradox ****** my mind
& I’ve been silent ever since I left you,
standing on the sidewalk
with cold coffee in your hands

*When do you leave, again?
Soon, soon enough.
Good, good, get excited.
The city is melting but I’ll see you soon

Sara is a dream
With an attitude you won't believe
An addict for advice
She sits alone most friday nights
Spinning suns
And breaking ways
To find a reason not to stay
And live a life
She cannot stand to hold
So pretty in her hands
But quickly breaking down

Tall tales of Death and misfortune
Appalachian nightmares of pearly rune
When the musics over and all is out of tune
Be sure to check out of the hotel
Before the clock strikes noon

Wear your plastic earrings and your shiny silk
Be careful when you open the fridge not to spill your milk
A heart shape tattoo in a burning building rises
No lover ever likes to see the other in ****** surprises

Touch the crystal fountain, but let not your hand waver
Horse tracks are aflame and no angel gives a favor
Green jade rests under clear rushing river savor
A father loses a son to a shot transformed to fever

After the vigils we cremated the afternoon in hand held pairs
The mourners pushed their thoughts out their minds and stared
Even the mountains and the trees and the wind made no sound - they did not dare
At peace a foreign thing for a family and friends who did so care

In time we are hurtling toward the end of life
Either to cease or to once again begin
All these theories of holy faith and sin
Falls to the wayside when a brother loses his kin

I give my thanks for the life that I feel around me
In my pores, my hair, my toes, my throat and eyes
Money, fame, power - these are material prizes
A friendship of love, respect, and trust is what binds me

We walk the trail
We read the signs
The road splits
There isn't much time

Do not fear to go alone
There will be others
Along this beaten road

Do not fear to venture forth
Into the foggy unknown
For all that will be sewn
Has been sewn before

You will always be you
Whoever that may be

Turn the coin,
The sapphire,
Mysteries laughter.

You will not be alone
Hear your own hearts tone
There will be many things
You'll wish to atone
Before you put down the phone

Head South, East,
North, West

You will know what is best

Red dirt rivers traveled down the hill towards the stream behind the house
Tall oaks trees are all occupied with crows and sparrows avoiding the steady rain
"This is sleeping weather", said my grandfather as he reclines in his chair admiring the beauty of the storm
Robust streams of lighting illuminates the grey covered skies
A cold chill penetrates the dense humidity built from weeks of no rain
Steam arising from the pavement, as the rain heals the ground punished from the unforgiving South Carolina sun
Deep echoing thunder speaks to everything and everyone in its presence to listen,
"That's God talking and you better listen, my son"

Let’s do something illegal.
Close your eyes and make
believe we are 15.
Bills and rent. The law.
What is all that anyway?
Can we get so lost
on the beaten path
that there is nothing left
to do but find ourselves?

Let’s sneak into the stadium
with our shwag and make shift
pipe in hand. Then
make love
like we even know
what that means.

Baby make me feel
young and reckless.
Teach me how to be
punk rock, and
flip the bird to
our oppressors.

Remember when
the whole world was against us
and didn’t pretend to be with us?
Remember when
we used to know everything?
Remember when
we were young and reckless,
and had a love that only
the innocent can posses?
Remember when
we were 15?

Baby, let’s do something illegal.