wildflowers

I thought there would be

wildflowers in the valley

Yellow and white

dipped into the green

But the crisp crystalized air 

told me they had fallen

I thought there would be moss and 

pine needles and trees and dirt trails

But the moss is melting

The roots that were ment to hug 

the dirt and rot 

and bleed into new seeds and 

new springings are pulled 

Metal cuts dirt

I thought there would be pools of 

blue water

In the sea nearby

and summer shells and kelp

and small hermitcrabs and silver fish

swimming happily

But the pools and basins 

and bodies of water

look stale, black and empty

Well, i thought 

i thought

this is not my home

I did not

Build this home

It is not mine

For i moved in

I just stayed 

And thought thought thought

I could have a home

But it is not

I just thought

I could finally 

Have a home

go where the culture is

Go where the culture is

Where it multiplies

Strangels you

Chokes you alive

Where all that fills is food and wine

And the arts and wonder and connection

Are cleaved and tinted

Into the neon light

And the houses reaching skyhigh

Shout at you

To stop being all that

To fold into the wonderful life

Out out out

Becoming processed and serialized

purely thin air

I sometimes feel or fear 

my poems are purely thin air

never to caress or care

or feed any part of anything anywhere

so nothing

ever comes out of it

Fear there are limits to where the pen hits the soul

pinching ink into bones

i dont know where to belong

Sometimes i am afraid

the visual realm

is stronger than my belt of words

my river of glow

that i push to flow

out of my chest and hopefully into yours

My ideas are getting sore

and red and less frequent 

am i beginning to melt

melt away from myself

and into the corners of numb relief?

Into a stream

a being without breath or food or sleep

And its so hard 

to do to do to be

☆ one has to get a little lost ☆

One has to get a little lost

To be found

To crawl up the dark meadows

Inch oneself with the grip of fingernails

Through black cornfields 

And cold stones scraping against rib bones

Put one swollen pink finger In your mouth at a time

And wrap each in cloth for the night

Surley, one day, we will be alright

And before you sleep on the wet moss

under the pine tree

Sit in the dark with the moon

For a moment it listens

And waking the next night to inch and crawl

You do it in hope

One day you will know

Know why you scrape against the earth

And where you are crawling and inching to

To one day

Know all along

You were searching for the sun

☆forest☆

A place we've known

One of many homes

Under the full blue stars

And still

the screaming of metal

Cuts all

Dim the glow of the moon

Cut our bodies in two

Falling from sky to moss

You know these things are fragile

Step three times

And the world is gone forever

huffing

A space filled with specks of dust

Between accidental sunshine

Stinging in nose and eyes

And coughing up blood

Is all I do here

With such a stain 

Heavily breathing and huffing

In the corners of the house