the moon through the tree
peeking through like a ******
shining full on naked bodies
staring back at her
the illusion of division
everywhere the center of her
smoke and bare dimness
where did the moon go
time doesn't quite stop here
but don't look past your self too far
it is here and now

the balance of fools
the boldness of orange stripes
the old lion moon rises
the flight of hawks
above clouds and thought and fear
outside the game
writing the subscript
taking the leap
the lion's head opens
sand and soul
warm smiles and beauty
i can see where the moon is going now

Dear Azi, I'm full of broken thoughts.
My insides are like a box of matches.
The moisture from my sorrow, wont allow combustion.

I get up every morning with a tourniquet in my hand,
seeking the self in the vestibule of my childhood.
Your caveats no longer reach me.
But, the sweet carousel of your laughter still does.

Each loss is a new vulnerability.
A subscript, for a long past bludgeon.
The only whisper that still holds,
is the one that tells of your past love for me.

just like my lungs need oxygen,


i need you to hold my hand and tell me that everything will be okay

That Ebony Moss teeming from your chin
Makes Addiction so Good and Lasting Sign
And when this Fruitful Magic vows to spin
Does merge the Ecto-World in Lumps be fine
Feeling as if your due License subscript
Which soon other Breeds qualify your Level
One which Choices birthed; Cast Lots in receipt
Then celebrate the Rarest Flair in revel
For how used thereof; One you found Depressed
As Trenches so deep un-vacuum the Fish
Choose Hour-Born Types bent with Tendons compressed
And finally enflesh this Long-Due Wish.
Perhaps the Signs, owe to Heaven's Respect
Heaven the Author known; His Will I Accept.

next to you
my words are small
they clamber for the warm

they seem outweighed
by truths you house
yet long to know your form

they tell me low
'suggest the touch'
but fear to risk the torn

their meaning slack
your ecliptic
tide so shapes my morn


i wait the days

i wait the days


i long to see
and read that face
that subscript giving clues

not wrong to hope
nor out of place
to wonder-wait my cue

i smile the day
remembrance laced
so think what might i do

to find myself
new sea moon night
          again
                   right
                               next to you

I don't want power in a poem
Just some rhyming light and whipped
With enough empty space and air
To take the place of subscript

I don't want to hear you sing of pain
I'd rather you stick to scheme
Keep rhymes in time and don't ask why
You’ve all lost the will to dream

I'd break every pen that's mightier
And fight freedom of the verse
Censor you to cold and heartless
Ensure passion’s home in hearse

I'll bleed your words dry of their wisdom
Make them all just ink on page
Dilute the work back into form
Homogenize center stage