walking the dog down familiar
   blurry roads

what do i see but i want
   there to be

created a spaceship that flew
   me to mars

followed good soldier into
   evil war

stopped all the killing
   hatred no more

This King’s Road
My rose petal garden
As I pick myself up from my roots.
I shake and shiver,
Jitter and jive my way through
This living almanac                  of fate:
Some Velvet Morning in my cup
Of coffee,
     Some luck,
     And a mission          to create.

Wake up, get ready, leave, come back, sleep
Wake up, get ready, leave, come back, sleep
Like a giant loop, I follow the path.
No real goal in sight, no real plan when I stop.
It’s almost as if I’m sleepwalking, hell, I probably can sleep through most of my day and my body will still follow the path.
But one day I’ll need to look back at how long I’ve been on this trail, and all the self destruction I’ve left.

A couple, with a couple of sticks
Walking in convoy
Wearing out disjointed joints
To distribute the pain of future loss
Weapons of choice
They carry no voice
Only the weight of their owners
Who, thanks to the sticks, will live to walk another day

I have walked for hours

and I didn't see anyone --


yet there is a path.

Step by step I walk

through the landscape, more and more --


it penetrates me.

This *****
Artificially awake
Lydia
apples 20 years have passed
oranges i want a do over
manhole cover coins
savage glares across the 4 wheeled property lines
young moms not giving a ****, that's alright
kiss of sun hidden from
anxious from blue oak , it's ridges pluming in the dappled twist
and floundering wave, wiggling wave of oak leaves green as frogs.
ponytail suzy, *** from galaxy sci-fi
i brought up a cup while it was empty there,
but so distracted by my own trembling effort,
every hair a furry hood, every fatty fixture of my face a rebounding basset hound
tennis shoes up to my neck, dumb naked in my greenery,
already old somehow, the window closing,
the permanency of parks, like a stilletto in a limosine,
green fixture of my white blinded attempt to see tomorrow,
tourist .
thoughts of Sylvia
, my gaping awe at the feminine,
and its green garden.

-cbrander

I’m crushingly sentimental, you might not know, I don’t let it show, but it’s true. I’m walking in the moonshine and moonshine is how I feel - I’m intoxicated - by you.

Some nights when I can’t settle - I walk - and find myself outside your dorm. Your light’s on tonight, everything’s right, when you're a few feet away safe and warm.

I’ll wait a while, in the windy cold, the crunchy snow, deep in the sharp blue moonshadow. When people pass by, I look down at my phone - oh, don’t look at me, there’s nothing to see or do.

A walking girl, a stalking girl? Lingering, at 2am, drunk with desire, yearning somewhere inside for the ephemeral closeness of you.