It starts
in the quiet
itching in the fingers
like new skin knitting under blistered burns.

I have always written.
Before I had my letters
(before the lessons
with stubby pencils
curving sense out of the air)
I would scrawl nonsense waves
folding and boiling
in a crash of senseless surf
onto pages meant for pictures

I scribbled a whole Atlantic
before sense and sound
delivered the waves to reason.

I still find it hard,
when writing,
not to let the rolling sea
scatter into fragment waves
that whisper into the breeze of my fingers.

I have tried many addictions,
I have spent people like money.
I have tied my hands
to stop from fussing at the leaves.
If I ever loved I left it still spinning,
but I have never lost the itch

a pen to scratch its bleed of ink
into a sweet clean ****** page.
To scrawl my feint history
in every broken harbour
of her yielding skin.

It’s so late I could cut my lights
and drive the next fifty miles
of empty interstate
by starlight,
flying along in a dream,
countryside alive with shapes and shadows,
but exit ramps lined
with eighteen wheelers
and truckers sleeping in their cabs
make me consider pulling into a rest stop
and closing my eyes. I’ve done it before,
parking next to a family sleeping in a Chevy,
mom and dad up front, three kids in the back,
the windows slightly misted by the sleepers’ breath.
But instead of resting, I’d smoke a cigarette,
play the radio low, and keep watch over
the wayfarers in the car next to me,
a strange paternal concern
and compassion for their well being
rising up inside me.
This was before
I had children of my own,
and had felt the sharp edge of love
and anxiety whenever I tiptoed
into darkened rooms of sleep
to study the peaceful faces
of my beloved darlings. Now,
the fatherly feelings are so strong
the snoring truckers are lucky
I’m not standing on the running board,
tapping on the window,
asking, Is everything okay?
But it is. Everything’s fine.
The trucks are all together, sleeping
on the gravel shoulders of exit ramps,
and the crowded rest stop I’m driving by
is a perfect oasis in the moonlight.
The way I see it, I’ve got a second wind
and on the radio an all-night country station.
Nothing for me to do on this road
but drive and give thanks:
I’ll be home by dawn.

whelming-
evening silence
-soothing quelling dwelling

a much quieter song
- moon pulls the tide along
singing of the sea

sun slides down-
the stars align
exactly as they should-
and shine

rest, earth-
breathe deep-
-we sleep.

r ~ 9/27/14

The world could have been black and white,

emotions would have been put aside,
Across the white sun, you could stare endlessly
belongings of trust would have died peacefully.

Your burning disease I smoked in the ashtray,
And I can still curl and think alright,
bitter words will be washed away
and then my emotions will step aside.

Little words bring justice to your world. No matter how much you try, there will always be something you can never achieve. I prosper when things look bleak, while smoking a cigarette and burning the trees. Thoughts would wander and take you to this land, where fairies and gods will give you their hand. Disagreements and perturbations will shimmer your beliefs; but you can hold fast to the rope and be silently relieved. *No wonder, the earth rotates and if only it had been black and white;  then I might cower at the sight of you, as my emotions will  step aside!

There is a new world out there
For people like u and me
A world where we won't be measured by fickle standards u see

A world where "love" means
Embracing the person whole heartedly
Where different abilities and minds
Melt and mould and become one

Where caring takes a new dimension
Where hope is forever new
Where the sun shines brightly each day
And brings promises anew

Where fighting the world does not drain you out
And you can say what u feel without wondering how u'll be judged

Where u can be childlike in your innocence
And maintain the purity of your emotions.
Where u don't need to twist yourself to fit someone's frame.

And where u can worship the Lord again
Where u can stand tall and proclaim
His love for all to see
And you know you'll be backed by HIM

Where u can trust ur fellow men blindly
Cause the one who sees
Knows your heart and feels
The truth of your words
Where externals fade before his gaze
Where liars need to fear his face.

Such a world beckons
So I say
Do not give up your loving
Do not give up on your friend
Do not try to fit in someone else's mind
Be yourself, your purest self
For that's what u were deigned to be
For If that's not what the Lord intended
Then his saving grace you'll see