Cascade
A mountain crumbles against sky.
A small leaf gently falters.
The gray fog passes by
like dreams in sequence,
one by one.
The brave trees, the granite walls,
The rising Sun crashing into time;
A morning in sorrow.
Altruistic shadows that creep sideways.
The sword of summer
penetrating daylight.
The smallest thought
held like a seed
blossoming in the hand
like light or thunder.
Future Mirrors
Cool are the winter cresses
In the oblique melancholy
A white statue crumbles into chalk
There is no more news today
Some final clippings were left hanging
On an old mottled clothes line
Listen to the silent doves
A grandfather clock is a bear ripping open
Doorways into infinitum
Listen to the silent doves
A grapefruit is a world turning in the hand
As you catch your ghost-half retreating in mirrors
A violent monsoon writes poetry on shores
As letter openers cut into midnight
Unfurling the stagnant portal
Fate is always non-negotiable
Against the great magnetic oceans
Windows that remember our faces
They let the cool air in
With a sense of subliminal mystery
All the unseen chatter
Settles like dwindling rain
Long is the night
Still cool and fraught with envy
As shadows crawl back into bed
Skin glistens in restless moonlight
Fingers move slowly as if clouds across sky
The anodized streets are impressionistic
Unapproached for fear of them disappearing
Have you ever seen freedom?
It may only exist inside of love
Fantasy is the unknown caller
Strident but ghost-like it moves
Straight through the ether
When the rain is over
Sleep comes with ease
In Feathers
Weightless, our names are written in sky.
Invisible, love inhabits the clouds
—an arrangement of notes played over velvet laid mountains.
As uncommon words are dreamed into playful worlds becoming eternity's more subtle plans.
Unknowingly, our lives intertwine in loops and mazes, lost in incrystal configurations.
Where does a soul silently sleep? If it can be called alone, somewhere else in memory.
The night is an infinite diamond.
And you are the chrysalis in formation.
Dressed in only naked feathers.
The heart dreams on silver screens
Lost in cotton days of youth
Marbled tides emulsify in foamy whispers
And give way to granite feet
Into unmade beds we go head first
Thoughts a little electric like children
Chandeliers play in winds
Like piano keys
We drift through enchanted rains
And drive through fields of heaven's stars
Where willows whip and flowers unfurl
Underneath the gentle truth of Spring
When convinced of one reality,
Such that no other reality can take place...
That soft light, oh soft light, finds itself trapped
Languishing amongst the leaves
She has passed that last corridor
Of forlorned memory
It isn't that hard to find beauty
In the simplest of things like love and truth
Give yourself wings
Fly into a new oblivion
The world is not all contained inside one slumbered eye
Just as you thought of cerulean whispers
Love lies caught like a chrysalis in time
But always somehow returns to that warm and familiar place
You make your own infinity or let it go
Everything can be taken for granted
—innocent hearts,
drowned like a waterfall,
or a seed left to grow
into rumbling silence.
Make way for the inevitable revolution.
A bull stormed into the china shop
Leaving no piece unturned.
What was it seeking?
It never really said.
Rose petals were trampled and
Love letters never read.
The ink had barely dried.
At least that's what was stated
in the op-ed.
