An eraser
goes through its life
caring about all the tiny details
but not about itself.
it degrades itself trying
to fix others mistakes
until suddenly
it’s gone.

it knows it’s dying,
it know it,
and it doesn’t care.
it cares too much about other people
to care about itself.

Some people say an eraser
would be a model human.
i don’t.

If everyone was like an eraser,
if everyone cared about others
just a little too much,
how would life work?

People would degrade
just like the eraser,
not caring
about themselves.

an eraser plays an important role in art.
so it does.
you can care about other people,
but don't
not care about yourself.
do not be an eraser,
you need loved too.

I miss
the forest of
        your magic
    as it winds its
                  tattooed way
through the
          serrated textures
                  of nightfall
all up inside
          my vertebrae
the soft wind
       rustling in your
elms,
outstretched to me
                   like arms
as stars burn through
       this brewing sky
in molten,
    fiery charms
They beckon to me
unexpected
          in quiet      
      apertures of subtle
they sneak upon me,
          unprotected,
when I'm sunken
in my tunnel
and sometimes
              in the
                   quiet stream
of the lonely, sacred night
I hear a whisper
whirring soft
as it permeates
            my spine
I let it take me over
                   as I sit,
slumped,
     in the bath
it creeps and seethes
over my wet skin
eats out my silent wrath
I let it
       fill my senses
as I walk inside
                 the deep
and on wooded paths
of solitude's carpet of leaves
when I feel
no soul is watching
     the deer start shyly peeking,
  and lynx resume their stalking
then long slashes
                  of ache
are reawakened
           from their lair
snaking through my ribcage
choking up my hollowed air
        yet, somehow
        in the longing
of bottomless, falling space
I see in distant, faded visions:
the precious contours
of your face
and so,
like an enchanted
          secret box
I open you,
inhale the confetti
of your floating stars
wave them over and through
my strands of vein,
my tripped out,
           healing scars
your essence
       penetrates
my presence
   like misty mountain rains
seeps inside my pores
opens up
       striations
of seismic,
      writhing pain
Your invisibility
            takes form
and then
            in sudden,
whipped-up heat
        it pours out in
honeyed rhythm
       to our own
             invisible beat
and just like that
I get taken.
Overcome
by slakes of love
rushing through my
arteries
like sweet
    manna
from
    above

the metal within the rock
attracted great lightning zaps
on the ironstone ridge mound
streaking flashes flew

Autumn handmaid of summer
Clinging greedily to its green
Unwilling to let go of life
It vies with gold to be seen

Leaves glowing richly in sun
Changing slowly russet red
Or glorious butter yellow
Their beauty turns my head

A soft breeze stirs in the trees
Gently coaxing their wealth away
But there is a reluctance
To let the season have full sway

A carpet of their fallen bounty
Lies strewn here beneath my feet
And now the wind grows wilder
Drowning nature’s last heartbeat

Autumn herald of winter
A ghost in the evening mist
Abandoned and forever lost
Like a lover never kissed

In my mind I never try
I figure it out easily and never have to cry
Everyone talks about potential
But I think I lost mine in the instrumental
When life gives you lemons you make lemonade
When life gives me lemons I find another way
If Genius lives one story above madness
Than which story is the story of sadness.
I think that effort is the one thing I can never give
Because I don't even know how to but effort in because it was never necassary
Now I'm just lost because I don't know how to live
But now it seems to me that your just my adversary

tall afternoon shadows were cast
all giants of mast
across the block*
height's soaring stock

stretching from fence-post to fence-post
many feet in host
the tip flies big
a great lofty sprig

trees towering like skyscrapers
high of tapers
late eve's lanky stalks
*lie on ground walks