Staring at a blank page

for hours. 

Making words out of

blue lines

deep feelings 

between the lines

and nothing comes out. 

Claritys cost rises

and words

escape. 

Safety’s collector

comes knocking,

run. Run

until the blue lines

fade into red

and write. 

The oars turned at the pace

of the drums.

The beach sand was warm

between my toes.

Can hear the singing

fading into the marshes

the sound of gun fire

crying

and gun fire.

My brothers and sisters

fighting in a war

my war.

Can’t sail to battle

with holes in a boat

and only a single

oar.

The jab from the past

we see from a mirror

our past self holds. 

The hooks from the 

dreams and the nights

we sat a lone with a lone

forty wondering where

we are going. 

I can handle those, 

been the punching bag

for years. 

Nobody

can knock me out

better then

myself

I was there in a dream.

Walked an island of light, 

drank from a sconce and

kissed an angel. 

I’ll wake the next morning

walk passed this threshold 

and find the door

the stairs

find this island. 

It must exist. 

I was there in a dream

but

I never left. 

If that isn’t life

she told me. 

If that isn’t just

second hand down

rolling around

flying, 

yes flying,

till sun goes up. 

She was high by that point. 

I wrote that down

in my journal

I think about it every time

when we are apart

and hope

she is still flying. 

Fruitful claws scraping against

the tired steel. Chomping down

chopped wood on regretful

teeth. Cutting the skin

deep enough for that

sweet

sweet release.

Don’t run away. 

I came when you called

and you left me stranded

in a freezing puddle 

of your sins.

Answer back when

I paddle across this

icy lake chanting

to an endless screech

drumming at the bottom

of the water. 

Tonight is the night,

tonight we

dance.

Footloose was a nightmare

we shared

but tonight

we shed that shadow.

Free ourselves from

the walls that enclosed

against our hips

and shatter this stage.

Leave our footprints

and shake,

shake until the sun sets and rises

and we rest in each others

embrace,

free.

Crawled to deepest inch

of the silent march.

Forged steel from a windless

current on a rainy hill in March.

Listened to silence for an hour

to wish a wish from a well in peace. 

To speak to time 

neigh a whisper

to stand still. 

It was all forgotten

the night the year changed.

Such a weak reason

then the night changed to day. 

Sitting by watching her

check and pick Peaches

I couldn’t help but think, 

are those the best?

She picked and picked

a dozen or so

a bruise here and there

and a full grin. 

No fear and 

not a second guess

that that peach will

come to haunt her. 

I envy her.