cloud smothered stars

slowly everything starts
to take a different shape
who knew
people I wish would stick around
keep leaving and reappearing
every so often whatever that means
them and I still frequent
some of the same old places
the day becomes filled with new faces
ready for the new book
will they laugh at an attempt at success
by the regular guy with regular thoughts
regularly written so much so
my hand hurts as the mind pushes it along
these smooth pages never really
knowing what’ll come out next
in line for that wish upon stars
they are there even though the rain
kept their light blurry visionary
seeing into the future
but details run down the window
until tomorrow actually arrives…

into a dream

the book page is warm

been in the car all day

unusual heat

record breaking

got to move

the hand fast

don’t need to be burned

in the process

best conversation this month

striving to find the balance

between solitude

and good company

the clock shows sudden

an am twelve

and shortly after

a morning

one might be expected

to say the right thing

and talked enough

never worried

never knowing what to expect

no questions asked

winging it full force head on

no hand to write itself

even if wrong man syndrome

follows someday

never worried

never knowing what another thinking

hard enough to figure out

waking in laughter

from a peaceful slumber

short term memory transformation

into a dream…

wooden fish out of water

sitting beside wooden fish
out of water in the desert
my feet burn the walk too long
they all say be patient
the rain will arrive
feel like Noah waiting for the flood
days pass and the sky will tease
as if I were a cat can’t catch the string
someone is pulling quickly
along the floor successfully executed
nearly everyone every night
reorganize the music selection
every day I pour water into the earth…

see through effect

this thin paper

allows for a see through effect

don’t quite know

what to think about that

as someone in the room

burps out loud

it’s day to day really

like a patient dying in bed

one day the pen can’t be stopped

the next day brings empty pages thoughts

caught in the blinds

up behind the best seat in the house

a painting of the patient man waiting

until he has some confidence

before he attempts to climb down

from his perch high above

as if height mattered

it never has

this short man has a story to tell…

thought expands

right in the middle

too much to expect sun

rob the rich of thought

put yesterday back

what now as thought expands

relaxing with emptiness

or hours not speaking

in because he put himself there

who yawns when they are not tired

what now when thought expands

only wish to capture with pen

all that the eyes might miss

all the detail overlooked

now under the influence

of inspiration

what moveable object will go

untouched

what Rimbaud never shared lost

found in recesses of the imagination

found in a thought given

standing tall now as the short man

swears he has been improperly judged

indecently exposed and he has been

in good company reaching into

the empty heart too full to comprehend

and he will stumble now

yet to be determined

what now as thought expands

Rimbaud whispers in the dark

moving this pen

vision he no longer has to imagine

only open eyes

what now when thought expands…

whatever comes next

he’s got an idea

and so he dives down

and swims to the bottom of the mug

holding his breath

hiding-almost

but he does want to be noticed

this time around the edge

watching her dance

suddenly remembers he doesn’t swim

he now sits at the bottom

waiting for salvation or death

surprise or whatever comes next...

subtle hopeful shimmer

subtle hopeful shimmer

in the ash tray

catching some extra sunshine

the day before to get

him through another cloudy day

the weather no longer seems

to govern his mood

rises above that of any ‘normal’

or recognizable place he has been

sitting still enough to be a painting

too long and it’s time to move

where his heart might be appreciated

and no one really knows

as he often finds out

searching so hard can reveal

that what is being search for

lies quietly beneath his fingers…