Everlasting momentum continues,

Spiraling out of control.

No thought for results, it projects.

figure in the distance.

Brakes.



Tender loving figure, teaching

Young to live.

    -  Pause

Heightened senses momentarily detect,

The Impending danger.

Manufactured oculus,

The last to witness.

Breaks.

Just down by the lights
at brokenland
there is a small patch of wilderness and a park,
where three cats roam.

The first is white with big splotches of grey
as if it built its camouflage
betting last winter would never end
now an easy spot amongst the hill of green.

The second was a dark grey
the color of the shade under a pine tree
on a partly sunny day
or a storm cloud ready to light up the sky.

The third was black head to toe,
body slim like that of a dancer,
and eyes of bright amber that shined like searchlights
even with a sky full of clouds.

The first I saw on high alert
nose up high, ears pointed, standing tall
a dog down the hill of unkempt grass
it’s owner leashed and in tow.

The second I saw on the hunt,
weaving in and out of wildflowers
leaping and pouncing gracefully,
steadily and quickly traversing the hillside.

The third I saw leisurely sitting by the road,
legs folded underneath it on a rotting log
watching traffic like a king on its throne
yet in seeming awe of its steady flow.

I have seen each cat only once
always when I am moving boxes to the new house
and I wonder if they have an owner
among the white row houses off Little Patuxent.

I will call to you in the thorny wilderness,
If only you would comprehend each syllable of my name.
I will scream out in roses laid before me,
If only I didn’t know of the precision it takes to use a knife,
I will recite all the different train of thoughts that consume my being,
Often leaving me stranded in the abyss,
If only I was not a product of emotional turmoil,
If only you could turn my pages the way I longingly brush through those in my books,
But I’m just a lifelong series of disturbing motives,
So I will not call out to you,
Even in my darkest dreams,
Somehow I will find the strength to forgive you when I lay my entire being down,
But until then,
I pray that God forgives me.

I find comfort
in the mysterious, 

in unspoken words.

My skin
grows in wilderness
hiding in things that yearn
to be touched.

Home is where the heart
breaks.    (fall into bed)
Familiar smells entrance
and lull, the warm
hearth of embraces
shushes    (a murmuring wellspring)
where spirit fails,
soul and body crumpled up like
scratch paper.

Hemmed in by excess
of Self, persona
blind to its orchestral
shadow,    (wrought by irony)
the mind scribbles
and raves unrepentant.

       (subtlety aches for
       skillful instrumentation
                to give it breath)

Singing the pain
of ages past to mourn
these harrowing visions

Beating on in leaden
veins to the lurch of a pulse
    (the crows take cackling flight)
         time the river pours off

The edge of the map.

Warm Winds, Cold Sky's
In A Tree House Forbidden
In The Lonely Forest Of
The Weeping Souls.
Where Only
Unicorns And Fairy's Exist.

Extemporize Frabicatedly.
This World He Exists In
Was Told To
Be Abandoned,
No Other Life Form
Exists There. But He,
He Chose To Take
The Risk And Go Anyway,

Hoping She'd Follow Him.

At The Blue Ocean,
She Fell Asleep.
While Her Soul Swam With
The Loneliest Whales
In The Ocean.

He Searched For Her,
He Never Found Her.

.
Tangles of vine, wisps of thorn,
Roping a rocky face of granite,
High, on a hill are drops of sky,
Green hands cradle purple beads
Of the sun, whose skin is frosted
In water vail, morning days' dew
Has come, birds and bees singing
Songs to hum anew, this offering
All to ancient invitations of spring,
There will be wine and flower laid,
Before rise of moon or day is done.