I Sam

Sam who lives by the tracks
Slept in his boxers till noon
Drank tossed bottles of gin.

I found him limp and lifeless
Skinny to the bone,
Smelling of salt and seaweed.

Sam stared up at the clouds
So far away. So lost.
His eyes—empty of passion
And filled with cold fever.
His smile—full yet drained.

The ocean breeze sifted through
His thick ragged hair
I watched seagulls glide along
the foamy sea then
dip behind rocks jutting out
by the cliffs that held
tall waving eucalyptus
above the dry ground dotted
with acorn and bark

How do you live Sam?

He faced his wide eyes into the sky
His skin weak from the blazing light

He just laughed and smiled

II Daybreak

Far too early for life
The bustle of yesterday still rattling and echoing through the old railroad bridge
Wind stabbing briskly into the vacant autumn trees
Waves thunder and a clocks tick time in the distance

The air thin and cold lake a razor
I felt most at home here, far away from my house
It was comfortably quiet, serene
It was a triumph
A moment of complete elation

III Ivy

This path leads
back home
to the
                  countryside.
Bending
     around
   a river
      of memories.
Faces
glimmer in the
waters reflection.

The truth in its blinding presence

I will not find greatness here.
I must strive for concrete
              pain.

I will reach beyond myself
Reach past the truth and
Grab the stars for you
I will gaze into your 
Beauty,
   Strength,
   Innocence,
infinitely
But first I must follow
This path
back home

IV On my journey I Found a Little House

On the ride back from the Cape
There by the river
A little house
Rotting wood
mustard yellow

Beckoning me closer
With open blinds
Ready to share a story
I lean into
your window.
How many years
Have run over
Your floors
How many bruises

How many dents and marks do you hold
How many lines streaked on your doorways
How much laughter
And how many tears

O little house
I want to know
What secrets
Are you keeping?

Abandoned vacant and useless
Only held together
By the memories
By the stories
By the triumphs
And the pain
Hiding in your walls
Running down the stairs
Hiding in the bedroom

What secrets
Are you keeping?

V October

The wind has things to say
If you stop and listen
A moment stops a busy day
To intervene the same routine

The moment is brought on nature's fingers
Gently touching all its contents cleansing the minds pallet
Breath is slow and powerful, filled with peaceful emptiness

Boot back up
start the routine
Enjoy the day
But don't forget wind’s message

VI November
Mountain miniscule
Journey close
Wilderness reaches
Grabs your toes
Black moss
Bright pine
Heavy fog
Nowhere to get lost
When these woods are mine
My own memory catalog
Visiting the playful storm
Vulnerable
Muddy 
Goosebumps

Night in the City
Swallow Hollow
Window Seal
Tick tock
Don't stop
Snicker flicker
Down that liquor
Dilated
Smiles faded
Narrow hallway

Unwelcome guest
blink.

Flair light
Tall roof
Look Up
Get Lost
Fall Down
     Long Drop

Stars.
Faded.
Spinning.
          blink.

Interstate.
Low cost
Slow coast
Grip the wheel
Unconscious mob
Familiar doorknob

Streetlights
Fireflies
Blurry faces
Blurry places
Tick Tock
Don't stop

I Follow your dreams

Mama made you shut off the TV before your
Favorite program and the last thing you saw was an ad
For brand shoes that your friends were talking about at school
It had gone right over your head and they all laughed
And Mama said It's a school night and turned the TV off
But tomorrow you’ll wake up early and
Follow your dreams back to the mall

II Black Shoes

Black shoes
Laced loose
Unused
Old news

History
Never told
Memory
You must hold

Many men
Wore those shoes
Many men
New and old

Worn and torn
Below the ankle
Forever thankful
Darkly bruise
Burning fuse

Low noose
To and fro
Blacks shoes
Hang low

Morning in San Francisco

Hurricanes speed through the street,
The air is thin and clear,
Polluted by the morning city bustle.
Sunlight meets the lamp post next to
Leafless trees hung with luminous fireflies,
Rainbow puddles drain into the concrete,
Seeping into darkness.
Grey coat and black scarf holding a newspaper in black gloves
Black jacket with brown pants, in a hurry
Blue button up under a suit looking stiff and automatic
White mitten with coffee and grey energy
Cold faces and
Colorless expressions
I press my nose and forehead against the appartment glass
Breathing foggy clouds as we all ignore
A pigeon searching for breakfast

Swimming in my mind

Off the deep end
Feelings depend
On the time of day
Clocks moving faster
Thought it was last year
Can't move past fear
Like it's holding me back
I think I'll slack
Just try to relax
But nothing's improving
And Time keeps on moving
Like this pool has a current
Filled will disturbance
Nothing's coherent
The water is dark
Nothing's transparent
The future is not stark
No room to leave a mark
“On your mark”
Without warning
No time for sorting
That makes you slow
“Go”

Skin

Pain crippling your once elegant figure
Fear pulsing in your veins, magnetizing judgement
Glue sealing the cracks of your skin
Suffocating you inside

Standing in the mirror, bold and present
Observing quiet etchings and imperfections
These are nobody else's judgements
When you are alone and they are still present
Nobody else's scars buried in your naked skin

You touch your nakedness, completely alone
Yet still uncomfortable in your skin
There is warmth trapped inside imperfection

Underneath lies appreciation
Nobody else's love
When you are alone and the warmth remains
Nobody else's thoughts
When you carry passion and strength deep within

Best Friend

When I was three, I met my best friend.
We would spend every summer together
Swimming, playing, laughing,

Always by my side.

My best friend never went to school
Instead he stayed home all day
Dancing in the young summer sun.
Running to the far woods
Shaking, leaping, panting,

Never to return.

Wild Dreams

Details, details
What do people think of me
I need to leave a good impression
So, i'll hold my face without expression

How much can I really be
What do other people see
When they look and laugh at me
Will I die without touching passion

My wild dreams need explanation
They are deep, wild, and foreign to me
But I know they’ll set me free

Haze

Fallen has the sun, crickets breaking the tense evening hush, lights plight ended
And the revival of lightless existence begun
Swallowing days fears into the confidence of nothingness
Crickets lead the marching chant

Four Eleven Lockwood Lane

This just in
Seventeen kids found missing
After mistaking the old ghostly
Place over on Lockwood for a haunted house.
Please distance yourself from danger this holiday season
And remember to stop by the studio for a free tour just remember to keep your eyes low.

Morning Dew

Glistening sharply
Brushed with quiet
Orange fingers
Frozen stillness
Time passes gently
Through the silky air

An empty field, Lifeless and Vast

The closet at Grandmas,
Untouched, crammed with books
Golden ink
Beauty hidden between pages
Like layers of rock
Untouched by eyes
Unscathed by nature