Before I reach her,
Pigeons scatter in the park,
  .  .  .  Bench is empty now.

You remind me of the wind
constantly lingering everywhere I go

Messing up my hair
just to remind me of your presence

Whistling in my ears
telling the stories of where you've been

Yet some days I feel as if you vanish

As if all the wind just stopped

But I was dumb to think

that I was the only one who noticed you
that I was the only one with the messed up hair
that I was the only one who's heard your stories

I was just a speck of dust, taken by you.

What will become of me?
or better yet, what could have become of me?
At times, I stare out at the world
from screened and barred windows
contemplating alternate futures for myself.
The “what-if’s” and “could have been’s” taunt me,
causing me to flirt with the idea
of things being different.


I seem to forget what actually is,
unappreciative of what actually has become of me,
of what I have already become,
overlooking the things I’ve done right.

It’s time I changed focus.
Transfix upon the ever-changing present,
not concentrating on what never was,
and no longer entertaining worries of what will be,
or what will not.

Could not my mind have conjured this?
Could this not be all a dream?
I cannot identify illusion
is nothing as it seems?

Could I so lonely be
that I've contrived this world alone?
And everyone I've ever loved
A creation of my own?

I don't believe you're make believe
Of you I'll always ponder.
I need you real, here with me.
I cast aside my Sonder.

Roadwork...PoThOlEs
Riverside...TORnadOs
Beachfront...HuRRiCaNEs
­Stringspools...SPUN!!!!!!!

Deciding to carry a plastic bag
was all I needed
for a spark of belief!

It was raining hard
and I saw a gain
in carrying it
for my experience told
people in the bus don't find it funny
when drip on them
raindrops from my umbrella.

There was one window seat empty
as if in wait for me
itself drenched in the pour
upon which the plastic bag I spread
reflecting on the divine design
god's kind grace
in protecting me in warm dryness
when in that ******* relief
was born in the atheist's mind
a belief!

I'm sorry I loved you
So dreadfully whole,
And with the white-washed candidness of soul.

I'm sorry I loved you,
And that with everlasting breath:
I praised your song,
Sung, as if to the death.

I'm sorry I dared raise
All hope's expectations,
By reaching out a childish hand
To cold adult's gaze,
And thinking my love untrue -
Why else then, my innocence razed?

I trusted you.
Like God trusted man with Paradise.
I fell in love with you -
Your untainted beauty and miraculous eyes.

I'm sorry.

For youthful naivety,
I´m sorry.
For universal chord that ties us together,
And untied us forever,
I´m sorry.

For praying to a fallen God,
Loving a pig's gall and sod
Dreaming that from the clod and dirt
Of the earth's mud
A Prometheus of love returned might rise -
But rise the love did not
And child's heart was shot
And child's innocence did die
I'm sorry I loved you,
You with the miraculous eyes.