When I met you,
Immediately I placed
my sorry head on the
length of your arms.
In a sort of restless sleep in which
I failed to notice
your enormity,
A tower
with its gallant roots
gouged greatly into the soil.

I failed to see your completeness.
The subtle intensity of
A face owned, stored, loved by many other faces.
The intricacy of your
many friendships remembered
and unrestrained,

of your Loved ones
dead and undead
Spread across the
counting of your time
and
how they were able to
power your eyes

The great lighthouse.


Where I stand
I can see its immense power
Its innumerable capabilities
To destroy and
to create

In the new city
I live with wild longing for
A lover to come.
I yearn for the energy
The lights cannot show
Which pushes me off a bridge.
I am no dreamer
Just nostalgic for the time
When cicadas filled my night

Here in the city
Of Lies, a tornado spins
And throws those who hold
On to their own small bodies
Through the blind darkness.
Weighed down by putrefaction
Those who hold nothing
Find themselves changed from reptile
To man to reptile again

The morning throws us one way
Coffee sends us another
A message flies us off the earth
While glances chain us to the sea

A thought, like a drop of ink
In water, spreads and covers
Our quiet demeanor
With its demands

I missed the bus today
And after an hour I feel
The riptide
Pull me from the shore

Something to think through
When anxiety breaks you
What would Jesus do?

A poem should be light
Like phosphorescent fingers
Touched by Saturn's rings
A poem should be musical
Teaching God to dance
Barefoot on the Andes peaks
A poem should have grace
Feeding the hearts of angels
As they clothe the bare lilies

Some poems last a century
Some poems last an hour
Yet others are satisfied
With holding no real power

I’ve done my purpose they say
No need to delay
Like a breeze that cools an infant’s head
Like a gentle kiss before bed