When you're cloaked in a pall of gloom
Life seems bland with colours gone
The little flower in her humble bloom
Will say she's there you aren't alone.

I drive the screwdriver through my own heart and
Stuff the open wound with my fist and
Swaddle myself in threadbare cloth and
Get to work,
Gathering up the pins to
Try and stitch my skin back together again.

Watching breakers
from below, forms
of foam frame shapes
of thunder clouds,
meeting mountains,
hold, hold this breath,
watch this entire wave
pass over, see, see

we can change
impressions placing

now and then in time.

and time becomes
this ocean, this living
planet's breath's

messaging medium,
telling us take this
thought, not fretting
failure to live under

all we may someday
think we drown in,
today,
time's universe…

not one limited
by how long we hold
a thought.

today? Are you wily
as a snake? Gentle as a summer's
breeze? Or so fragile that you'll
break? Will you sting me like a hive
of bees? Or rake me like the autumn leaves?

Who are you
behind your bedroom door,
lying in the dark rolled up like
a cigarette, above the hard
wood floor? Staring at the
the ceiling. Walls peelings like
your sunburnt skin. Who are you
before the drinks kick in?

Who are you
with her? Who are you
with him? Who are you standing with
your face in the bathroom mirror? A silhouette
in the shadows, when the lights
grow dim?

Your heart was always so fickle . It would open on one side then swing back only to open up to another .

I learned there was no such thing as ,"Wait on me !" You held every second down to a tee . And when you yelled 'Fore' you came crashing down driving me to the other side of the green .

I sing hymns in the Church of Holy Dreams . A cathedral dedicated to Sergeant Pepper whose perseverance lingers in the rafters along with the pleas of the discarded .

Someone whispered in my ear,'We're not obligated to leave."

sometimes you perceive things
as they
aren't

and some will look at the ground
and never have to look up

and some will stand in the sand,
and not be held by fingers twisted with fate,
gaze up at the stars
with wonder

some only look down
to watch their dreams fall
to the ground


and then there was

Cathy Brown

I wrote
"I love you"
on a napkin
got caught in the rain
on the way to her apartment
and when I gave it to her
and she unfolded it
there was a beautiful flower

I never told her I love you
never had too

the light in her eyes
the twinkle of stars...


I was watching an old movie
and the make up artist
was

Cathy Brown

while I dipped
my ******* in the holy water
of madness???
why not write a poem
I loved the name so

the touch from her fingers
kept me sane

some dreams never vanish...

do you believe this **** I wrote
sometimes I need
to not
get serious

I love you Cathy Brown.