The thought of the future we will never have was pollinating foul fuzzy particles in the air,
slowly following the wake of all those tasseled dreams I held onto to for far too long.

The most intimate revelations can often expose plagiaristic suppressions that we’ve most likely,
have already tried to to forget; suggesting to anyone on the outside looking in,
That there was a rancid cowardice secreting from the pores of all those who would deny the most basic of fundamental decencies to he equal fellow man.

someone keeps entering
or leaving
through the turnstile

on which side of the turn
the soul finds its way
is destined to be

it's beginning of an end
or an end of the beginning
on either side of this threshold

on one side
an adventure to explore
earth, air, water, sky and fire

the other to embark
on an expedition
of immense probabilities

Divine Destiny hidden
in the cellar of my bones,
like vintage wine, saved
for a special occasion,

or perhaps, forgotten
under dank moldy memories.
Like crochet cobwebs, sins of failure
cling to the label: Not Good Enough.

My palate familiar with a heavy blend
of disappointment and fear;
the aftertaste bitter on my tongue,
I pretend to be numb.

Objectified by my impoverished identity,
I pour a cheap substitute: Shame.
Because once in the glass,
only I know the cost.

Everything's so temporary
and dull.
It must have been a drag on poor Solomon.

The old wise king
got a bad rap
at my old church.
Must've been his choice in women.

And this is the part
in most of my poetry
where things delve in to the depressing,
but I think I'll wait
a stanza or two.

Vanity! Vanity!
What other things can I cry
to cover up what I'm feeling?
Maybe I can do this long enough
until you think I'm edgy.

i smell the shampoo
in your hair
i feel the ridge
you've had
on your skull
since you were a kid
something you're
self-conscious about
you joke about
shaving your head
but you worry about
how it would look
what people
would think
either way, i say
i would still
give you
kisses on the head

The boulder sits there stolidly
in the middle of the stream.
It likely doesn't notice me
save maybe in some stoney dream.

I first saw it when my hair was thick
and youth coursed strongly in my veins
No thought of age or walking stick.
nor notice paid slick moss and pains.

Many times I waded my way past.
Many trout I've pulled out of its eddy
with some dry fly lightly cast
as water went by fast and steady.

Listening to Florence and the Machine
On my car CD player
And following the backyard fireworks
Down country roads

“I couldn’t hide from the thunder
In a sky full of song”

History is full of
Such blood flow
And blood shed

Hitch and release
Famine and feast

The night sky, tonight
Is filled with more
Than starlight and blackness

And though we are all
Celebrating or grieving something
A little bit different

“Grace, I know you carry us”

I stand before the sea,
the wind from my right,
the sun from my left;

and down the funnel
the sea sings a lullaby...

Oh boundless, boundless,
softly roar if you will
as you light your borders
on the great, wide sky!

Sing, great mother,
sing before me
in love's varied hue.

I close my eyes,
I drift,
I return to you.

I'll be late at home
but don't feel alone
leave the door open
to let the breeze in
play with your hair
swirl strands around
your anxious face

then close your eyes
you will see in them
those chocolate nights
remember the game
we coined "hands of clock"
you the hour, me the minute
and at stroke of midnight
we glue as one

Shall we all burn in a seethe of lava
In this season of hatred we have of each other?
I’m shutting my ears to the shouts
Which accuse the other side of corrupted souls,
And all claim the banner of hypocrisy.