A Dream in Hand

Like dove grey sand
slipping between
an outstretched hand
dreams in a far off land

You cry and you weep
but no one there to hear
so off you go to sleep
where stars are there to keep

A tender dream or two
under the leafy palm
the wind blowing through
while I'm thinking of you

All dreams must end
just as the water recedes
so tomorrow I will send
a story being penned.




But, wait...



Instead, you get the car
and I'll get the night
and maybe we could make
movies of our dreams


Maybe

Subtle Intimations

Her eyes
fixed on the bonfire
on the dune

My eyes
drawn to her
from the autumn shore

She's engaged,
entreating the flames
to a promenade

A detached specter
currently consumed
in vermilion wonder

She of the recklessness
ever so close
to veering off the edge

Hates to go to bed
Hates to get up
Desirous and consumed

Living on auxiliary
power, moving in
breakneck shadows

Lost in the
garble and gust
of an upsurged swell

And She
like all
lost people

Would never really
be lost at all
If only there could always be -


Fire

Karma

There's a bird in my life
It looks different from the other birds
The bird is bohemian, I'm convinced
It keeps to itself

I named it Karma

Karma is earthy, artsy and beyond reproach
but doesn't know its purpose
Karma balances and sustains

There's a bird out the window

I named it Karma

I see Karma every morning
I smile
Karma is reliable
I count on it

I hope I leave this place
before Karma does
If it fails to show one morning
My faith would be shattered

There's a bird out the window

I named it Karma

Questions Over Oatmeal

Should we forgive for too much?

warmth
pain
love
hurt

Should we forget but for the world?

memories
space
collision
chaos

Should we do too much?

flashing
circling
consuming
breathing

Is it possible to do too much, except live?
Is it possible to extricate sorrow?


There will always be sorrow.
But he can wait.