Healing

skin heals
and so does
the heart

sometimes

but one tells
more truth about its progress

one stands right
in your stare
while the other talks

all sorts of softlys
or sharp-- go aways--
that may tell nothing
of what lays under

scars that show
tell time

scars that hide
live random lives
generally long
and full

bites
may be nothing more
than a blanket
on past hurts
holding warm
and protected
wounds
still sore
and cold

no look
can tell me
all of how well you are
nor you
all of me

Heart

the way
you can beat a heart
when I can hear nothing else

when all else matters
and all that I can find
is a thump
and then another
another

and on I go
eventually back awake
to it all
but never free

some great program
running in a flesh
that is free of the basics

like software
free from machine

yet still
there it is
at night again
all I hear
before the the darkness
and dreams
is a thump
and another
another

of me
but not my conscious doing

I can run
and it grows
but I order it not directly

oh the way
all of this
just goes

one foot
after
I know not what all

is miracle
alone
and so many
throw it all into the mundane
and search for meaning
in books thousands of years old
from men that meant less well

when we have this
and so much
more that I know not
all around us

this should be tended
so perfectly
before we go throwing faith
around to light up the outer shadows

Feathers Over Waves

setting flight
over land

only to find
soon later

on looking down
only water

all around
and forever deep

not sure how much air
there's left to hold wings

but seeing nowhere
that won't swallow me whole
upon resting

sometimes
I can go years

forgetting this
is all I am doing

sometimes
only days between tears
and wet sleeves

all the while
pushing feathers
over waves

What We Have

give what
you have

and
no more

no hopes
uninsured

no plans
that are only
icing on air

I am less
about dreams now

and more
about
what we are

don't get me wrong
inspiration is one fine
drug

but I'm recovering
and want a bit more
that can be held

a bit more
than can be just thought

a bit more
than dreamt
as I wonder off to sleep

that--
the all dreaming,
I did far better
a couple decades ago
than I can now

all the things
so many
say

as they are looking forward
to life
and its dawnings

those things
fly
so many minds
so high

but work better
on the young

leave little to me
if I can't go to bed
with a smile, my love
and a soft pillow

here
and now

I'm ready
for what comes after first smiles
and the kisses more

and here now
ready
for this
we have

and I smile
so much
prouder

if less often

this
is all I need

this
15 years and more
of being
not dreaming

Lights

there's lights as I look back and below
that I don't think I am going to get back to

in the middle of the hill
great accomplishment

valley below
forgot me

the mountain
and palace ahead
have never met me

and will see
an old and tired
traveler

not the me
that left
or that wanted to arrive
but just what was left

they wont even see
the beautiful view
I have in memory

The view I have
of the valley this night
lights guiding thousands home

they will see only me
not my thoughts incomplete

longing
to further

to a more whole

to lights
I will never reach
like water
in a desert
hoping to be an ocean

or sun on a horizon
heading on while leaving a show
from orange to pink
to distract the content

while all the while
we were the less than worthwhile

Sometimes
the really important things
are only what we make of them
and the company we believe in

and searching nothing
more than searching

home already had
yet forsaken

That

To live
with only
fear
to hold
me in
line

what life
is that survival

revival
survival

take this
back
to my
lonely bones

survival
not all
I was meant for

but at 37
still had it
at 43 still had it
at 8
had no idea

but always
this
at least

I think
better
of existence now
and how little
it can be

So Much Stays

This day
light stronger than fire
blue looking the other way

me not knowing what to
make of it
but waste

head in a million tomorrows
when the bills are paid off
and there's a house
that some other stranger
can't make me leave home from

after 12 years
I know the grass here
and so many taller things

like wrinkles on my hand
I remember branches that held
my child's first swing

endless summer lemonade
from the faithful tree of myers
sweet blooms and fruit 18 months a year

cracks in the walls
and fences I've watched slowly lose weight
to bugs and lichen

These words and a little more
I can take
but so much stays

Without Sheets

I sleep
without sheets

so little to cover

what happiness
is worth containment
anyway

and even better
if it is not work at all
to guard this empty prison

read books all day
and cash the checks
if they come

or go to work
anyway
since there is little to miss

and thus
pay the bills

keep the heat
on

to stand in
for blankets
all too scratchy anyway

I sleep
smiles
or frowns
just to keep to the clock

yes
like rises
and sets
I see the sun

and I sleep
without sheets

Chairs Hung on the Wall

chairs hung on the wall
tables put away

shoes not at home
here

well
where's the livin'

if this
is your safe
and wonderful
refuge

it is my calling
to set to trail
and find on

find on
and on

dirt is life
life is dirty
and I want it all

this put away life of yours
is all neatly arranged and all
but so little more than it is

I like all I have
under the dirty rugs
and in the frig

always something
to pull together
but never a plan
to have
weeks in holding
to let free

sure I trip over many things
in this my life
but they just take me down
to see the things
so far out of normal view

and make me feel
taller still
once I stand again

Honesty

Will honesty ever be so simple

ever be
simple

ever be
honesty

ever be
both

ever be
both
in moments
not so far apart
as to be un-connectable

ever be so
so ever

talk soft
or just be careful with words

too much
says as much

just be
honesty

and I'll for a change
take that simple
truth

and lay
softly
to sleep
with you

nothing
less

Off I Go

morning's here
and came
quite eclectic

here on the cliffs
over the ocean

low fresh light
brings out more mystery
on the water just before the waves

little more mirror
yet dark

clouds
and orange

just east
mountains stay dark for now
this side of the rising

less voices
and engines
leave more room for the sloshing
and distant hum of large buildings breathing

things still
so many captured
still under covers

so many
that I can hear more
in the less

layers not yet piled on
hiding the stillness
that can be

hello
sun
morning's here
and off I go

off
I go

Wondering Away

wondering
so much

but today

just
where the sun
went

and died

still clouds
show it's there
alive somewhere

yet
back so far
away

that all is still
finding its way
without shadow


full the
lacking
feeling

we all have

wondering

no one comes back here
without purpose

this is not
the site
of search
and discovery in one

even if both often
happen separately

wondering

what is lost
in all these misses

that and this
that should be
thus

wondering
takes
all

all
it does
and leaves
those
that walk not
away

away
far
away

If

If you need
a hint
I forget my dreams
easier than all else

there you have me
but walls I have armed
to bump
the entry
if not attack

games
of mind

all real
unless you know better
and can find that know
in the moments of need

the halls
will take
take your feet
if you must search
but they will not reward
as much as they will tire

that which is built
can do its purpose
while the new arrivals
only their disappointment
if not content

Behind Hello

hello
sand

sand that folds
flows or rolls
as needed

dictated by the waves
and gravity
of soil and moon

and nothing more
than will willing...
stay

like weeds
looking for such
and lettuce pretending
all the same
with so much better
the taste

the taste

like sand paper
to lemonade

a good match
gone rough or
sour
at best

all
we left
left behind
behind

To Be

to be
at center

then see
see
a set of rings

zeroing

zeroing in
on a different home

a different ground zero

yet
to find both
both true

mine and theirs
true

that is
the real
life
we kill
over

so the same
sake one or two
misforgivings

take the heart
of another believer
solely for believing
in a different end

idiots in the way
mean both bad
and good
on purpose and
negligence

There is too often
only the good we leave
in our wake
and not all the needs we hold inside
left behind fulfilled.

Sounds

I imagine
gray strands
when I'm feeling too young

tight asses
when feeling old

highs
to your lows
I proclaim

the joint manifesto
considers important
one
with due emphasis
undue

officially
to be
I declare

in a solemn
emphatic
final word

lean to the side
say something
a wry look
or smile none the more

emphasis with a following

success or failure apparently brought by chance
luck
that is

stolen
from screen
yes

wands and unicorns
could do no better
even if fucking hard
and serious

acquire defines like crap
but change it up to achieve
and you get
reach or attain by effort

when really
I think they are the same
and only differ in the viewer

I stand dead
as much as alive
and less so of both the more I waffle

which is only a vehicle for syrup
or if more minded
   a fail to make up one's mind
I say better to eat always
no matter

at all times
on all occasions
as a last resort
and evermore
never this

close at hand
being indicated
mentioned

a thick sweet liquid
often used
derived

I lay hold
a public declaration
but only whispered

a platform
I stand
strong
on the arms of termites that hold hands
to keep rotten wood whole

the many really can hold
the worm ridden truth
together and in force

when on its own
so little
and does even less good

I imagine gray strands
when I am feeling too young
and I toss my inexperience like salt
on this overdone meal

and yet since I am consistent
even when wrong
this salt seasons the unseasoned
into an edible bit
of life

tight
and loose
all at once
and forever more

night
day
good
yes

Sleep Sleep Away

Tired, but too busy
to ever really sleep sleep away.

Pretending and stacking
comfortable pillows
till it all but might as well be.

That is where I live
almost there but never
really in it.

Tired, but never caught
caught up in it
or caught up for it.

Like a spiral
that knows not where it started
or is going,

I circle,
never really repeating,
never that good at what I am
to say I'd seen this,
but always in view
of how little the progress has put between this
and that me.

Tired, but unlike rocks
no lack of legs
to blame,

just my skin
and the stuff within
fearing all out.

Why, why so many clouds
between me and my sun,
why.

Tired, I'll find rest
but still now wait
for the more
we all wait for,

the more that is until there isn't,
and the small hope someone
will tell stories of something
you've done
to set their start
out beyond yours.

Sleep
sleep away.

Before Regret

Smart and as careful as I am,
today, I am also too far
strung thin
to carry any respect for my own skin.
Let alone the feelings of others,
so I lean hard on my closed mouth
hoping to make sleep
before regret.

Lies

Tell me lies
they make me feel better
about the truth.

How rare it is,
like gold
or diamonds.

Something to hold
and wear out of the house,
proudly,
on rare occasions.

Tell me lies
there is so little
other good
to go 'round
now.

Call it fiction,
or whatever,
if lies cull the wrong smells
in your mind.

But tell me only
a few good things
and I won't ask
for any
supporting pictures,

just tell me good
tell me sweet good lies
sweet lies.

A Balance

for all my years,
young years and more,
I thought

thought long
and that all peace
was a balance,

and not just that,
but an equal balance
all rounded and well.

Not the this
that really holds the pots
and lids together today
and has always
kept with all their weight
in water
from boiling over.

Real quiet,
or maybe it is just waiting,
is now just taking some life over death
in favor of what should be.

that is what keeps the masses
from strangling each other
so long
as no anyone
cannot make everyone happy

so long as someone loses
is it better to hold
hold us down
by our throats so we never get the upper grasp
that we'd abuse all the same
if for nothing more than getting even

everywhere we free
so much payback flows forth
how far does the betrayal run
and could it all be solved by just a major acting out
or would we end all freedoms by letting all bonds fall

dreams are dreams
and always

realities are real
and always fall a bit short
but live themselves out

dreams seem at best
slowly woven in
despite all my pleasure
in making them

like the real balance
that holds boulders
tight to the sides of mountains

stability
over gravity
in all we are
is sadly all we sometimes
are

ready to fall
at any moment

Whole Worlds

whole worlds
live in my dirty toes
and I clean them out
every day I can remember

and I mean clear them out

the sun so rare
and I don't care
I know we are all trying
but sometimes it just comes across as so little
I can't even invent a complement

hands and paws just really are not
interchangeable

close enough to sometimes understand
in the way you can glimpse what might be the details
in dark fields and under trees at a great distance durring sunset
but all you really see is the amazing colors beyond

that is how little I can know
and how much awe I can have
at almost the same time

and that is how
how flawed we can all be
in the right wrong moment

Less Lost

All that
begins
is just
closer to death

Me here stalling
am immortal
dreams of so much yet to be
no realities of such and lost

I think we are all the hunt
or call it the search
or the becoming

but so many
once there, or worse once
far enough to see the next valley,
fall upon swords

knowing this is all the better it will be
all the better
it will
wills to be

So many days
from the dream
and so close
to the darkness at the end of the tunnel

Me here
I'll stay dreaming
little done
but less lost

Through Open Doors

Every journey
only opens doors

Never decorates the walls and closes in the warmth
The handshakes and back pats
all fall
on a heart that knows now what

Every journey
only grows you

makes you feel
only that you should have always been able

So short lived
is the real joy of the push
the last miles that could be nothing less than one foot
over one foot
and no other thought

Such clarity
has no room

and yet the world gets back in
and rolls every edge dull again

Found and Denying It Still

the alcohol
pulls my veins to the side
and makes them matter not
to the happiness of my head

I could throw so much away
and not lose a thing
for the moment

sure a sun somewhere has a number
it's figuring is mine

but it is not,
not yet,
yet mine

for now I am invisible
or free

free under the darkness
and its fine black feathers

wind at my back
leaning on me with all reassurances
fueled by whatever no matter

fueled feels so good
so good to always
always come back here
again and again

but really
as often as this ends or begins well
it more often ends
an end all alone
or less than the sum
of all that went in
and away

so long to find a mind that was sound
or enough so
to be me

and all this time left
left to avoid it more

Need to be Worn

Need to be worn
worn and left old

left tattered as loose soil
in a steady wind

not protected and preserved
I am no more special than any next,
but to more than a few,
and less so the more important I make myself

exposed, used, worn
but not preserved, not whole and untouched

untouched is all for birth
and not accomplishment

not that the former is not a feat
just that I am long and many teeth beyond it

we are if nothing more,
a pair of eyes for the part of the world
that can't see

for the universe looking
to find
find itself
through our stumbles and scenery they fall on

I will work
seek to be worn
worn out
no scrap in the yard still with purpose and use after I am done

no such wrecks for me
besides those
within
that tear enough
as is

Dream of Living

So
asleep

but running
sweating enough to keep the landscape green

I scent
the meaning of fear
[into existence]

go high
fall low
miss the distance
and all fail

but brag different

the meaning of fear
into existence

where only bad will
was seeded
now swarms misery

misery in search of balance
balance that will cut
and slice

good
meaningless and lost, bits
of decay

a few will see
but less
will know
know what
what to do with
the sleep lost

to do with
the never had sleep that was lost
what to do
with the never had
the loss

what to do
with the loss

let
live
leave
fly

believe
in all
is good
and comes
in as much
as is needed

is needed
and that then sets orange
like a sunset
just out of reach

out of reach
but fully content
in the heart
and head

I've already...

I've
already lived
half a life
twice as long
as anyone should.

I should finally,
if even on the eve
be ready to be me
and only me.

Twice the time of half the heart
fixes nothing
but desire and insecurity.

Still I only crawl
as now I am less me
and more the puzzle I fit into

The father, brother
lover, artist, mudslinger
plant freak, what ever

finally getting naked
shedding all the things
I would have been
I am left
with just what I am

If you can hold your core
your you
the expectations erode
and one in awhile you can stand up

Nature

Nature,
thousands of bugs,
dinner.

The patrons feasting on them
dinner themselves
in talons and sharper beaks.

Killing all around
yet all being just

and what it is.

Beyond or before all kinds of supposed tos.

Not all the sick and twisted reasons we do the same
or ignore the life of our own food.

Its there
that I start know
we are no longer nature now.

Finding the Land

What is gold
but a stupid metal
hid hard in the ground?

So what
that it is soft
and lends its shine
to rings of wed.

So what
of its generous smiles,

so many lived
in noting more but cans
and tents
to find it,

and still more
never did
in so much less.

So many pursuits of wealth
told so may years before the pursuer
even half way got done

So many
end so much the same.

Half done
but long lived thinking more would just come.

Alone,

but we, the true believers
do not let down.

We hope on
despite all the bad
repeat, repeat

repeat.

Chances true,
     chances false,
still at hand
same before as everyday.

And our best gets the best of us
and we see potential.

Potential never ending,
and more seldom arriving.

Like a Weed

I want to live
if not beautifully in bloom,
color and flower,

then like a weed, fast and proud.
At least live,
not need
not need this or that
just to thrive.

Make do and do well
with whatever.

Feel whatever hands
I have around me
and the love they can offer,

not still bent out of shape
by all the bargains unkept.

See the best
in sunset and sunrise both,
take what comes
and enjoy.

Being specialized has its niche
but also its easy downfall.
I'd just as soon bend,

just as soon bend
and bounce true and proud
like a weed,
surviver,
at least until
I find my bloom
find my spot in the sun,

each day building...
not just hoping it finds me.

To Go On

feeling it impossible
to go on,

not because it is heavy
but far too light,

and far too
off in the distant yet to be.

Far to far away
from where I want to be,

and despite knowing what to do
I also know
it will be so many days,

so many days
before I can be there,

and that when I am,
most of what I have now
will not be around for the arrival.

My kids will grow
and leave
and my friends will wander in and out
of my life and surely not be all the same.

I will look at a picture
or read a "to: Dada" note from now
and cry to go back.

The old will go on
and the young will come in
and some others just for the mix.

Can't I just be
and
be happy,

here and now for always.

I am feeling it impossible to get the years
to where I want to be
and still be.

I want it now
like a teen nearly grown but held still
and impatient
never allowed all they know is coming,

but worse still,
I know... what I want...
never comes...
 while I am still who I am.

Change eternal
killing
with every birth.

I am

Late
laying awake
looking at the shadows
I cast on the ceiling through my covers.

In thought
over how my numbness
protects me,

but how it protects me
from the good
not just what I am.

Missing t's to cross
but plenty to wear,
I am.

Missing i's to dot
and everything to put a thumb hard on,
I am.

Late,
I am.

Late
in thought

Late
in doing
living
only.

Late
to my own shadow,
I am.

And others
could all read this
perfectly clear.

But I deny again
in better times.

Wrinkles

Your winkles
interesting and all
outweigh your years.

Drawing your face
a long taught older
than your years.

You walk the season on your back
and in your hair,
but the year is
too much to do at once,

but I bet you've had
a good time longer
than I to think this world out.

Conclusions only in the ear
of the beholder
matter no more than ever.

Your old young,
hold young old,
what we keep becomes
us eventually,

and what we give up
sometimes
gets too far away
to ever get back.

You've been
here long enough not to just do anything
for the sake of nothing,
but only for its worth,

less surprise
but so much more rewarding
over the long bridge that really is each of us.

You are lived
and you are

you are
and I should stop there
not to end under doing it.