Nature – with impeccable force – blows the air around Her,
Her breath dancing on a mirror
like a ghost in the evening.
i cannot see Her face – She never
looks me in the eye, but still – the fog
skews my sight and hides the
blades of the grass and bark of the
tree. i am struck by these wonders,
like the bloom in early march; my
grief leaves me as easy as sight
did in this condition. now, in the
morning, i can only offer my navigation
to a certain extent. i still stumble,
and the anger bubbles like the early
stages of boiling. i rub my eyes
hoping this dream will leave me soon,
knowing that the only way to break the spell is to reach out and wipe the mirror
with my hands

The smoke of my death certificate fades into the ether of the night
It is not my first.
It is not my last.
The beacon amplifies the smoke
It dances in the gleam of the incandescence
To track its path is to count the sands of the Sahara
It waltzes like a paranoid ghost showering upwards
Shimmying like an epileptic schizoid on a carousel
Jostling in an undefined constraint

What Day Was This

Burnt the bridges
   can't go back
      on purpose
Just a forward step
   into a fog of life
      on purpose
  
Can't predict the future
   pay your bills on time
      unless life lets you
Go to work yesterday
   just like today again
      if life lets you
  
We stand tall and strong
   till the mindless mallet falls
      as is always
Cry till the tears stop
   the mindless comfort comes
      as is always
  
Time tolls it's bell
   a rhythm in our mind
      what else is there
To look into the past
   just reflections in our mind
      what else is there

Went to the store
   bought this life of small
      imagination
Called out your name
   in my dreams you are gone
      i will miss you

The enchanting, unearthly fog
overwhelms the parking lot
and my small romantic heart.
This drab field of concrete becomes
a magical fen
the place where epics and legends unfold.
My feet lift lightly through the damp
and I dance with the shadows
transformed by the mist into something
fantastical.
The street lamps beam fantastic eerie rays
in to my wonderland domain.
Am I a storyteller?
wanderer?
faerie?
I think I am the beloved of a great Lover,
pursued with gossamer dreams
and romanced by sacred light.

I stare at the cruel beast in my head with my mind's eye,
He blocks out the sun, making himself look like a total fright,
The muscle in my chest grow tight,
He turns me against everyone I've ever loved, however he might,

I feel the pressure on my relationships growing to a painful strain,
It causes an indescribable pain,
He tries to wrench me away from everything I love, he pours down reasons like rain,
I stare at the beast, as he transforms into a reasonable person, trying to best for me, trying to separate me from my pain.

But deep inside I know he's wrong,
I turn and walk out of the fog,
That has clouded my vision for years, I now know that the beast, is anger, and he I now know is a fraud.
He feeds me lies and hateful half-truths written on harmless little paper wads, sneaking them into my mind, oh so innocently.

I look now as I escape the fog and look into the sky, bright as the diamonds inside my loved one's eyes.

On a foggy morning

Leaves swoon
as fog hugs the tree
kissing its pores
with open wet lips.

the breeze hisses
in jealousy.

the sun
looks away.

the sparrow
laments
her lost love.

Leaves swoon
as fog hugs the tree
kissing its pores
with open wet lips
the breeze hisses in jealousy
the sun
looks away,
the sparrow
laments
her lost love.

On a foggy morning.