(2013)
poem about how sometimes you really just can't force your poems out.
My Grandfather’s last dream In a deep sea of white, heavy thun… Until a peaceful respite blinks What will it bring? Will the rain… With their piercing showers, will…
Ask me who he is A tall tree and branches keen words drop; leaves shaken I try to collect them all But forget them by the stream
Such an empty sky Countless pensive glances are Over and over Swallowed swift, before their time If only I could keep them
Howling and wailing Like the vast October winds Delightful to find Many who share the same chord Sing till frogs jump in our throat…
No words escape me The sun will rise tomorrow Or so I am told
The spotlight glares down Bright, bright, sight, sight My cloak swiftly surrounds White, White, Swish, Swish, The fabric shell billows but stays
Words without meaning An open mouth seems empty Trying to express Something that dances lightly Forefront of a clouded heart
My White Cloak Part one: Place Entering day by day (1) Into a place to grow and stay Into the foundational walls of old
Delicate surprise From behind blind-folded eyes That glint of glitter Sprinkle, sprinkle, floating down We reach out, we grasp, we drink
A natural fog Too tired to remember Dowsing memories Broken alarm clock weeping Woe be to his faint tick, tock
Foggy morning sky Your veil remains untouched by The flags of Autumn How cruel of you to kidnap Such keen keepsakes of your kin
Just for a moment To glimpse from dusty pages A single white flash Tenuous seconds follow Until a roaring reply
To etch a love song No earthy ink can suffice Only color drawn From such a naive heart-well Could paint even an inkling
Red and orange glitter Dancing delicately high Above winding paths Falling to the great grey streams Falling for grace, or duty?
Tonight I awoke to an orange hori… one that I had never greeted befor… It took me back, to the days of ce… and disregard for the ticking of c… Part two:
