Writing, Ideas, & Stories
We met once,
under the same roof
same game
singing the same chants.
Encore over night
constellation built around
your Voiced dreams.
I can hear you,
you sang you were invisible
but I saw you-
I wasn’t the only one.
Tears fall on this day
the last day your soothing
dream lifted our ears-
my ears
over the years.
We met once,
under the same roof
same game
and I’ll never forget.
RIP~
He battled across the shallow meadow and
flying steel kissed his ear. The shriek
sang the sweet song through wind pipes and muddy forearms.
His mother came down and dangled
her index on his cheek.
Life evacuated her son on the muddy earth
a kiss
and he was gone.
I’ve seen the other side and
I don’t want to go.
Lower the sails
march home
love while you can.
One way entrance sign
no one leaves on
two legs. We take
for granted the light
we entered with
and pray for relief
before suffocating
on the dark.
You sang it best on that peach
Summer afternoon to the breeze
blowing your words across the beach.
Don’t stop, don’t freeze-
be here tonight don’t overreach.
Lay at ease
and listen to her preach
watch her reprise
this freedom of speech.
Your a Wonder
standing above the clouds
never looking down and only
looking to the sun. Baron plains
kiss her heels like an ant
kisses ours. Sweet sting steals
thunder from there home-
keeps it for herself as she bows
to thank the sun for
another day.
It’s been awhile, yet;
your back here on this starless night-
with blue eyes and white lies.
You left on your milky way-
wayless, but
you came back.
It’s like you never left-
left your saddle to the left
of this bed, our bed,
the one you never left.
Memory flipping like a yearbook.
She used to wear red lipstick to dances
and a respectable dresses. Now
she teaches her daughter what to wear.
He brought beer to every party he would go to. Leaving
with someone new every night.
Now they share a house and a daughter going to her first dance.
I see you
in my dreams we dance to no music
holding each other close. I never
want this song to end. I never
want to leave this bed.
I see you
in random faces passing in the street
holding another close
buying a pajamas for them. So they
don’t have to leave this bed.
The beginning is an unopened map.
A calm pond without a neighbor.
A sprout in a lumonent spring garden.
The sun peaking over molded canyons.
I am not your father. We
own this together, together
our duty
is to mark this map.
Lay in the garden tending to the tulips.
Swim in the pond and climb those canyons-
as one.
Stale conversation, no
repetitive conversation
with golden courage.
“Where are you from?
How many siblings do you have?
Where do you work?”
Not enough golden courage.
Really just a stabilizer to keep
the breathe roaming along
a narrow path of stim-
ulation.
Saint's Muse 