golden streams of sun
sink, unwrap, dance,
melt into the trees
like honeycomb,
silver the ground
with their tender warmth.
the day is dying but so gently
that the shadows can only lengthen
dreaming their dreams of the night.

An infinitely delicate green
gently disguised verbena
leaf, shyly beginning to
undress for a morning
bath in sunlight and pure,
chilly water. Where did she
ever get the idea that she
was too green to celebrate?

Kiss Me,
Oh won't you kiss me one last time,
Before the night time fades away,
And all the stars, turn to grey,
Before the clock hand hits midnight,
Before the first rays of sunlight,
Wash away, the magic of moonlight,
So kiss me, before your pumpkin carriage turns to dust,
And buries our memories in golden rust.

Pale winter sunlight
pours over my left shoulder.
Swelling gibbous moon
lodges itself,
lives here,
for now,
in my tiny chest.

Spine on earth to see
sunlight watching back at me
lives and loves are fleeting
as breeze through unfurled leaves
a trunk may scar in storm
to heal and grow toward life
a tree never dies
whispers in the wind
even though it falls
to feeds growth anew
as joy must breed sorrow
peace born from war
to suffer is to live
for it is not life.

I fall gently and surely, like dandelion fluff,
Stuffing my face, lungs, and veins with that junk,
Funky, fat freak, I, want to transform,
Normalcy ***** so I'm packing my trunk.

That shear inevitability though,
Flow of time guarantees multiple falls,
Calls to mind fresh bright blood spilled on snow,
O who would know snow?  I'm up to my *****...!

The joints are beginning to sear and fry
My seasonal torpor is at its peak
Seeking now a warm word, and smiling eyes,
Sigh, for the sun sets, and smothers the meek.

To my schitzophrenic mind,
You are all the same.
You are him and he is her,
She has more than one name.

Do not try to ever lie,
Or abet in the foolish game
In order to persuade me,
Or explain why you cannot flame.

I can see the forest for the trees.
The winds shakes their mighty lofts.
When the storm is raging,
Dieing things fall off.

What good is any word without a meaning?
Only those with tear-stained egos disagree.
Nobody wants to hear about your sacrifices.
You aren't the only ones who ever bleed.

My hand empties the sun
in a long angled streak
across my inherited nose.

I spread fingers to watch
the slim darkness multiply
in the midst of my
usual countenance.

Shoeless toes cannot
do the same–a limitation
of any species’ anatomy,
but if they could

I would step on
soft gray pavement
with a promising
spectrum of curiosity.

The sunlight passes through
the shadow of my smile
Leaving the singed remains
of the fools that I beguile

Heaven sent praises
I keep locked up in a box
All of my Earthly worth
I keep in the drawer hidden in a sock

I am suspicious of every
hello and have a nice good day
I check out all of the closets
I'm sure you're out to make me pay

Your laugh and smile is rubbing
away at my phony bone
I know you're certainly up to nothing good
I can't wait until you leave me all alone

Your sunshine gets lost in my
shadows to your smile
Your hardly honest words just walked away their last lonely mile

So don't mind if I pull the blinds down
I prefer the shadows here within
This emptiness deep inside
will always be my friend

I've become an alcoholic.
I drink until its socially acceptable
to lock myself in my room
to avoid the plague of humanity
dwelling in the revealing sunlight,
orange caked faces melting into the dirt.