Surface Tension

He is unquiet, restless, and troubled,
the once glass-smooth surface now steams
with hisses and bubbles;
in a riot of emotion and under the weight
of dreams he gently waits:
speaking with the Spirit in prayer to the Father,
he reaches for the hand of the Son,
holding fast to a slender faith.

7-18-09

Stellarwhere

Stars swing by silver tipped slipping across a grey wall;
this is not our only prison,
this place we find ourselves in.
Just five points of white light our way and that is all...
guiding our sight, gliding along four walls,
a low ceiling and an ironwood door
before it all begins again.

4/4/2009

Troy

On an island of green
in a sea of stone
lay the warrior
unseen by the flames of torches
unfound by the rain of arrows.
he bid farewell to his love that day
in an ocean of sand and cold,
unseeing the warrior lay.

4/1/09

Mind Flu

i shake with anticipation
i tremble with the best of intentions
i sweat with the delicious infection.
and i am begging her again and again:
make it happen, make it last;
but pleasure is not the same as freedom
when you're stricken...afflicted with the past.
it's easy to forget i'm too addicted to leave her
when my mind is lost in the fever...
it's in my blood these germs, this illness
it's in the cold and quiet of a winter stillness.
this arranged marriage, this merging of strains
is raging into a virus that is more than us.
now the buzzing and burning in my brain
turns from a riot into a chorus.

1.6.11

A Hot Winter's Night

she comes home late in time for sleep and the deep night
excited from the miracles she has seen, then
spirits rise on a cloud of caffiene and rest
raising hopes across the board across the bed
and love is made, outside the box, and mindless,
i key in to the mind though as if i was threatened
when kind blue eyes lift and look to mine...and
we both arrive at the gate just in time to be blessed.

1.5.11

Mood

He sees the fog and banks of clouds
   that he thinks he's finally grasped.
It hides the sky and the crowds
   and in its gray embrace he's clasped.

2009

Dis-intense

the presence of the snow on the ground and the cold wind in the air
is less than pleasant...words whispered or shouted are stolen away
by the stiff gusts as soon as spoken, fading like distant screams from
a house that is more than haunted.
tips of porcelain angel wings reach skyward
while robes touch, crease, then fold together.
This is the essence of the flow of the found...
the iron wood door at the top of the stair.

30 Dec 2010