The ocean tried to bear the sun,
And with brevity
It caught aflame-
It lit the world on fire.

But water is not made to burn.
So rose the Titan,
So came the day,
So crashed the waves away.

And it sung, and it sung, and it
Fell from the sky

But to see a star crawl from the sea
Will leave a mystery:
Who, far away, is there to greet the sun,
Before it returns to me?

Perhaps no one waits, like me,
And it lays to rest-unaccompanied.

Surely, though, another sees!
Another soul rejoices,
To see a giant fall from high
Like heaven to its knees

And if no love for him remains
Always will there be-
An ocean, in some reverie,
To swallow up the Sun.

Life throws me in a hole.
I crawl out-
dirt under my fingernails,
gravel stuck in my knees.

I rise.
I grow.
I learn,
and I prosper,
again.

The gravel will exude itself
in a few years
without splendor.

It reminds me
though
that it's all a big trial.

I cherish the gravel.

Warmer than ice, but cold as stone
I am half human and all alone

I can see where there is no light
But I cannot see because I do not have sight

I have a voice, but I make no sound
Inside my chasm, empty words abound

I have no hands, but I hold her fears
I cannot breathe 'cause I'm drowning in tears

Locked away, never to be seen
The cure to this sorrow is hidden in the seams

Though I cannot feel, I feel her strain
I can only be what remains in pain

If I am too late to make a spark
I fear she is not long for this lonely heart

I belong to the
Boys in my mind.
The heroes in books
Knights and that kind.
The honest, the brave,
The funny, the flawed.
Give me a villian
I'd never get bored.
We weave our own tales
Of love and hate.
Seeking our own kind
Of prince or pirate.

black and white with grey about the edges
my honest words just stopped ringing true
and with all the wandering in specific directions
this haphazard life always comes back to you

when truth falls from unclean lips of stone
and the ground rebels at the acid stain
the flowers decide to reluctantly grow
and you wash them in redeeming rain

speaking the language of overflow
sound piled up in scattered heaps
the needle lost herself in the last straw
but this memory of light she keeps

the water is clean and my hands are not
yet I'm supposed to shine in the dark
four thousand tongues are still too short
and you alone can make your mark

The generation of
attention
deficit
degenerates
have become bored with everything

I wish I was.
I’m glad I’m not.

Early on
it was clear
I was coming nowhere in this race
and so my eyes began to wander,
pick out the daisies in the grass,
note the sweep of the horizon
and -
stop.
A long time,
the thunder of feet
fading into the distance,
leaving breeze,
bees
and other tranquilities.

Until a small man
in a tight suit
approached me with a clipboard.
"Ah," he said,
sycophantic smile
splitting his tanless dinnerplate
of a face,
"I see we have another
"like-minded soul!
"We'd like you to join
"the non-racing society!
"You can look at daisies all day long
"and at the end of every day
"we quantify who has done the best!"
And I, sad,
sat,
and wished the sky
would swallow me
whole.

Tonight, I saw a couple,
sitting  on the bus.  

They were holding hands
and looking at each other
in that way
that couples do.  

Looking at them...

you could just tell.

Afterwards, I saw
another couple on the train.

She sat sideways next to him,
her legs over his.  
They talked in low voices,
stealing little kisses from each other
during the pauses
in their whispers.

Looking at them...

you could just tell.

And I wonder
when you sit next to me,
your hand entwined in mine,
drinking your tea
and looking out the window

if someone were to
see MY face in that moment...

could they just tell?