what if
after i cried and
the door slammed
and sirens stopped
and tubes
threaded down
my throat were
wormed into veins
if crevices were
given up to
your hands that
do not love me

after tongues
like steel
tug of latex and
lysol sheets
light, tight as
swaddling

what if suddenly
THANK YOU CHRIST

yeah!, I know your type
contrarian to the bone
one or two compatriots
scheming, conspiring
contriving ways to make
a fool of the world
its ways
and most every one else in it
soon you'll greed for a following
start generating bigger and bigger noise
garnering attention
gathering only catcalls
and guffaws

"why won't anyone listen!?"

i can not love you more
than i have loved you
for i have loved you long
and held your love so dearly
in my heart of hearts but now
my eyes have opened
to find my heart in mourning

and when the first bird
sings outside my bedroom window
he sings a sorrowful song
for you have found me lacking
though i can not understand
the how and why of it
and yet my love for you
was gentle and long suffering

I'm really sad
Fighting getting mad
About what I can't have

I don't wanna talk
So I'll go for a walk
And sit in a park

I'm seeing doubles
Guess, I'll blow bubbles
To mask my troubles

I'm sick at heart
My belly starts
To expand with farts

It's kinda funny
I'm feeling hungry
Can't eat or function

Deeply suppressing
My depressions
About life successes

I can't fit in
Cause, I'm too broken
To make any sense

It is mid spring as I drive by
this clear and tumbling foot hills creek
and stop before the bridge so high
dismount my truck to take a peek

This stream which many call a river
runs to white descending waters
as if it is afraid to dither
on its way to final resting quarters

Now is the time which in riffles run
above the heads of quiet pools
white sucker fish spawning in the sun
they lay stacked up like utter fools

I spied a dainty bruise
powdered away, by a vacant stare,
another pair of pale white elephants
get to prove that they're not there.

Empathy, is probably
that word I'm searcing for,
heros never get the chance to leave
except in times of war.

Great, are my expectations!
Overly zealous, are my dreams!
Do the rest get off scott-free?
Should be a law, or so it seems.

I dance to melodies both bright and swift
diminished only by the rising sun
and yet, within the swirl where chances sift
I struggle with my smile when song's begun.
I stumble when my dreams and heaven meet,
as "fancy free" and quicker dancing feet
will join the dark to scribe my written word,
and blend its voice to song of mocking bird.

welcome with the rush of words
echo down the hall
the carpet dark
walls deep red

I remember when the moon
rose red
the August heat thick
in its swelter
the stars were sweating
and falling like feiry
persperation

you leaned forward
the serious face
examing me

never sure if I was high
or imbibing

Tarpaulin

Let me be
your human canvas
carve me like
you would on stone
my fingers bleed
words upon the page
yet I am only
flesh and bone
pacing my steps
upon the stage
only mortal man
who writes his soul
crying out
to the thin air
I beg of you
to treat me fairly
look down upon me
if you dare
but don't ignore me
with your silence
for I would be
your human canvas...

and like the tender glint
of a thousand august stars
that tangle in darkness

I travel over you

my breath
the nameless wind of sky
exhaling
between peaks of mountain breasts

my sweat
of summer salted seas
falls
in a gentle shower
as if to moisten the mound
of your fertile flesh

you wash against me
like waves over smooth stone
and I swallow the warmth
of your flooding stream