The Coffin and the Cradle.

Sat directly in front
of me, only allowed to see
a quarter of you,
your face, my eyes
are the lamp light. I flood
every memory, I feel
every year that you are. Me
and you are alone, but not
far are the towns people, the gods
that live in their minds, only spoken
to reiterate their power. Less
time was given to Rome, than we
need to understand the mirror. Your eyes
remind me of death, the great adventure
into life. Where did you first breathe
and when was I born. Into you,
into time, to death, and me.

Is He God?

Why do more people at the bottom 

look upwards? Have I forgotten how 

to become less? Has comfort stolen 

my memories or the struggle? Of God?

The man out my window is black

and how I fear the night. It's broad,

his piercing white smile. And he knows

he invokes my humanity. Where is my

real reflection? Is he me? Am I responsible 

for his smile?

Tennessee Wheat

Every stalk sways

dancing to the push 

of a forceful world, 

blowing history,

evoking visionless traditions.

Every strand is accounted

as woven and thread, 

with security in the routine. 

I never saw a single,

individual stalk 

stand straight up 

towards the Heavens, 

or the opportunity that occupys 

the morning Sun.

All I can see 

is this ocean of one. 

When the Smoke is Gone

'Man, sometimes it takes you a long time to sound like yourself."- Miles Davis

Sometimes silence is
medicine for the unattainable.
A chilled drop in a boiling pot
appeases your denial,
but nothing soothes time.
You've held the matches,
afraid of the burns,
but a fire always turns
to smoke and then
opportunity.

First Love

Wet across my lips
Soft across my heart
Surging through my fingertips
Pounding till we part
Your hands wrapped around my hips
Have been since the start
You can drink me in in sips
You can have my heart

No sense.

My eyes opened
Countless dreamy dimensions
Colliding into some nearly forgotten
Painting of a lie
Tangibility
The only currency was the gold
Lamp light bouncing
The only thing left to buy
Time
We figured out where tomorrow was
Yesterday had long passed
Away
Into the realm of regrets and fond memory
Where we all find our pacifier
Self satisfaction
Is a horse with no reins

My eyes open.
Pale light dances down
the wall to your face.
My face feels
the blood rush of dehydration.
This body has traveled
many miles of time,
of darkness.
I am thirsty,
and it is a present condition.
I bathe in this light,
clean of the night.