I walk the stones each Sunday
I leave flowers as I walk
Not for certain people
Just in case the spirits talk

I left a rose for Eleanor
Gone 100 years
Just to let her know that
Someone still sheds tears

There's lots to learn while out here
Walking through the stones
Listen close to all the voices
That aren't as silent as their bones

There are soldiers who died fighting
For freedom they did die
From the beginning of our country
Who now beneath us lie

They fought the revolution
Some fought in Vietnam
Some died lost deep inside themselves
Now, folks don't give a ****

There's many here of children
From the old orphan home
They found them buried out in back
So, there their spirits roam

The grass is kept up nicely
Though the stones are left to rot
I try to clean them up a bit
I guess I'm all they've got

I started out just walking
Now, I clean the stones while here
I give them the respect they miss
I can feel their spirits near

So next time you're out walking
And you want to stretch your bones
Bring a brush down to the graveyard
We'll take a walk among the stones

In the summer i hear
a street vender
Playing the brodhran drum
Those comforting
And relaxing thuds
He/she makes
For money

It's icy cold
Out here in the snow
But I don't mind
I'll bury myself
Before I go back to you

It's not that I don't want to
I do
I want to smother myself
In the warmth of this idea
That I carefully made
And assigned to your face
But I won't

Maybe I'm derelict
And you're lost too
But I don't want you
I know my edging
Is pretty
And the frosted glass
Glimmers when it's dark
But I'm empty
You won't find anything in here
Nothing for you
At least

Our steps crackled onto the tiles of sycamore
Thudding prints lashed beneath our shoes
Merrily advancing on such pavement
Along with you.

Side by side we barely stopped
Expunging air around with nature
Our bones twitched with each other’s ligaments
While our eyes took moments.
Pacing freely with the wind
Of autumn trees blessing us with leaves
Fallen it may be, but it will be felt
Like a wedding with petals on the carpet.

I barely notice the faces as they bounce
Or the blank mask they wear at the parties
For all I see is my sun
And I will bask with him eternally.

As we were approaching towards the way
Grip within a grip, steps are on square
All it takes to be happy
With you, I realized, it was simple.

Once I heard something strange, almost unexplainable.
"I hate walking," said Nicole, my brother's girlfriend.
Walking is a living thing, non-reversible, unable to refund.

"I just can't stand it," she said. Well, yes, you should be moving,
moving your legs joining into that movement, that freedom
of absolute expression that boundaries race to form around

In fact, when you put the one foot after the next
it creates a ripple effect which effortlessly continues on and on
"It seems like such a waste of time," but only for the bunny

his batteries died out, drums cracked, sunglasses lost
he seemed lonely until he saw me walking by

"I love walking," I said. And then I left.

Walking home from my friend’s house after making music and making faces and his roommate’s ex-girlfriend was in the kitchen, her back to mine across the living room and I closed the door.
I walked the eight blocks to my house.
To the left
To the right
I thought of you but only a little bit.
I laughed when I slid on the ice on Summer Street and I inhaled deep to relish in the lack of sun, and for the first time, I listened that night in November
with her cold and slender hands over both of my ears.