Will (poem)

Somehow, in all of the great vastness of the world, of space, of the universe: the millions of stars and galaxies, and time that stretches onward

I am more immense.

With my mind, the darkness and light are mine to embrace, reject or amplify.
I am not a small part, one small sentence in Life's book.
I hold the pen in my hand.
I can write hundreds of books, fashioning each page with my own desires and feelings that shoot from my mind like comets and fashion the very fabric of what the universe is formed out of.

Thoughts. Will.

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poem

Time is singing in my bones

And turning them to dust 

footprints (poem)

I've had footprints in my dreams

and on my mind. 

Phantom trails that slowly move from the top of my head 

down my jawline and down my chest and to my fingers. 

I can feel them. The marks of those who walk in and out of my head

leaving trace like silent snow in a frozen world. 

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Poem

There are gold flecks in the pavement

and spray paint on my brain
and all of it runs through my eyes like water through a drain.

Green leaves on trees and owl calls

backyards and cars and loud footfalls

the sounds of fate 

a rusty gate

the train tracks to my left in wait

the echoes of the past 

fly through the air like birds on wing
and ghosts of those who wandered here
are there in everything.
the air is warm
the nights are long
but youth, it fades, and soon is gone.


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Weep No More (poem)

As the droplets trickle down in paths like human veins, and rain falls, a gentle cacophony against the glass

The flowers have all closed their petals

And the sky has gone quiet.

I cannot hear the songs anymore

They used to reach out to me like branches of trees

But now silence has deadened their limbs and wilted their leaves.

It is the sound of faded colors

The earth slowly weeping.

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Poem

Out in the field where the weeds rustle, and bend and shimmer in waves like golden honey.
Only the stars can see us, those stars, encapsulated by their deep folds of space
Their lights winking out one by one by one, until we're all that's left.

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Poem

I walked down my path through the trees; the sunlight streaming down in golden rays, and illuminating each individual needle on the towering pines beside me, dazzling my eyes.This spot in the forest was mine; there was no sign, no deed in my name, but it was mine. I could sense it in the way that the trees recognized me and waved their branches, could sense it in the whisper of the lazy wind as it made its way through the leaves; the sun warming my back like a friendly smile, or the deep reverberations of the earth, as it awakened with every step, welcoming me back. 














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