go to bed

go to bed each night

and dreaming of that day

some of this gets seen

go to bed thinking

it could be the night

when someone

on the other side

of the world stumbles upon

these thoughts and find

something worth reading

a chance if nothing else

to be read and it might be silent

but not afraid of what others

might think or say

guess I don’t care anymore

pressure and I may crack

the picture frame is crooked

hanging on the wall

and it’s the river in autumn

no idea which river

or where it might be headed

or coming from now on

he too will be silent

in his pursuit of—

what were the goals told to be attainable?

just getting to work on time

is sometimes a struggle

tried to tell him not to get stuck here

in this wage slavery system

nearly everyone stuck the same

struggling to get by

no idea who painted the idea

can’t read the signature

maybe it’s all a big fake…

hours pass

hours pass and believing

in the self becomes

job one

nothing should matter more

so much does

he probably hasn’t eaten

in hours pass and he becomes

something the self can’t stand

alone on his own

without support he might fall over

hard to the ground

or below and who might tell

him he is facing in the wrong direction

essentially walking backwards

there is no longer a goal to be attained

at a height unimaginable to most

he sits cross legged how can

he make any decisions in this state

of confusion even chaos would be

welcomed change and how many more

years of war can we endure before

the republic is taken back by the people…

better than defeating the self

such a large stack of thought

all my own some would say

self-absorbed but trying to

encourage the self

and isn’t that far better

than defeating the self

realizing the power of the self

lies within us all

to reach unlimited heights

such a large stack of thought

no one even believes

it is worth the time or energy spent

better off doing something else

instead of running pens dry

and arm sore from too much self

absorbed thought

such a large stack of thought

to burden all these pages

the scent of herb in the air

silence swirls like the smoke

forces an eye squint a bit

but everything is crystal clear

the path is laid out in front

but the transportation mode

still remains the question

such a large amount of thought

for such an average size guy

smaller than the size of the room

where he will continue to pile

these thoughts…

back to the days of automatic

back to the days of automatic writing
whatever is popping into the head
smoke fills the kitchen
it's still winter and he can't open the door
sixty-four ounces of coffee
cannot be a healthy diet
good thing he isn't running for office
too many nervous habits
and sometimes leaves his
sweatshirt on he is always
got a lid covering what some might
dread black book and a smoky kitchen
producing pages of free thought
nothing is free they will say
it's a leap year and what do they all know anyway time for change
not a pocket full of coin
the kind that can take time to occur
not the type spent in second
that broke not that kind of change
back to the days but they're tearing down
the spot making room for something new
change is hard for many to attain
yet so easy to find as he walks
around remembering all the spot
she forgot the late night snow walk
downtown everyone is looking
then he rolls up escorted by two men
change for those behind
and words are only thoughts expressed
back to the days pep talk to push
himself into the corner
thoughts automatic like his foot falling asleep if he crosses
his legs automatic like a red light
at every corner when he is in the car
and has to pee...

nothing concluded 137

what it might mean

or doesn't

which side

is more right

absolutely

truth leaks slow

like gas it fills the room

one year ago

lied for a war

state of deception

never been so many

all at once

barely denied

just out there

under public scrutiny

hawks don't even

bat an eye lash

for the proud

doing their duty

coming home in a silver box

what's the reason

know the lies

whatever it might mean

or doesn't

twice as long as the last time

a leader lies

and instead of details

only silence

who will save

the regular people

from the power mongers

criminals in action

no doubt

30 foot cement barrier

in the holy land

to keep separate

the people

two religions two worlds

read the headlines

who is lying now

how awful to be taken

for such a long ride

nothing concluded

as we all stretch for truth

exposed at last...

nothing concluded 136

who knew

or does

what this means

or doesn't

staring into the day

gray turned into

cement wall

freshly painted

wall of thought

behind it all

cave dweller

once high on the porch

above now below

ground still wondering

what it might mean

or doesn't

which side is more right

absolutely knowing

who is wrong and fearing

again the liar

might cheat passed

the average voter

nothing concluded

and my own dad

persuaded with fair

and balanced journalism

pack of lies

huddled and hurled

in the face of democracy

standing as he writes

for nearly now on

follow or lead

just be up front

giving your opinion

nothing concluded

may not have it

all figured out

still learning

as he goes onward

and deeper into debt

the American Dream

nothing concluded

where is he

going now

on and on...

nothing concluded 135

realizing luck

drawn lines in sand

or on the back of wall

I created for myself

some say self-absorbed

only one ever said it

to me in a letter

never saw her again

never will say it to my face

how terrible

the thought

how terrible

the words without

thought

some hidden anger

how lucky to be the teacher

stomping out that

original thought

that will spring up

in young minds

remember seeing this same

one drinking beers

between cars

drunk in the parking lot

college campus life

how many years ago

no one cares

as if I mention

how this night gets twisted

more ways than you know

who knew

or does

what this means

or doesn't

some thoughts

stick in the head

for years

or forgotten

in a minute

or two

back inside

day exhausted outside

forcing the sun

to show itself

for a minute or two

many thoughts

cramming the mind

might go crazy if not

medicated it's the new

American Dream

but this opinion

doesn't matter

it's what the collective

thinks that matters most

don't have time

find everything out

second hand

filtered by someone else

in the box tells us

it's news we listen

are we interested

or distracted by

it all becomes

an experiment

of some kind unwound

constantly changing

directions like wind

knocking down

the dead wood

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 134

watching hands

dizzy face

days become shorter

twisting the night away

locked in thought

dread in mind

hand in hair

twisting the night away

cross-eyed ruining

the straight line walk

idea just passing

or flashing

yellow slow down

take a good look

at what's all around

realize luck

drawn lines in sand again

once a week beach trips

as summer came and went

too fast not forgotten

night like this

always bring

out the stories

like earthworms on the driveway

after the rain

now I live on a hill

they will all slide into the mud

as the sounds of the night

get stranger each day

my Bible reading friends

came by again today

this time no one

was home to witness

and I just don't understand

their angle

truly care for I

am on my own spiritual

path which is constantly changing

like wind knocking down dead wood

nothing concluded...

horizontal

trapped by the dark
of this day
cold behind the eye
drives pain to work
at four thirty
waiting in the morning
feeling like a curse
not a cure
makes the mind
pace in circles
not back and forth
not a normal pace
too fast trapped
in the dark of the day
behind blinds
that become horizontal
bars but when does security
and protection become
paranoia and fear the throbbing
pain horizontal bars pounding
the inner eye
twisted words like those
on a glob of silly putty
or those in a cruel joke
only one took serious
maybe that's how the sword
pierced the eye
right through like a kabob
directions out of the fog
hanging daily morning over
the field before sunrise
wouldn't know it with all the clouds
trapped by the dark
of the day confined mind comfortable
on the horizontal cushion
confused by how many direction
the race becomes no point
running around in circles
with broken scissors...

nothing concluded 133

off the scale

into the reality

of the weight or wait

in anticipation

nothing concluded

at times

can't keep the eyes

open long enough

the thoughts flow

on and on

ten months from now

in Crestone

or twenty-eight

years ago

in this very spot

he sits amazed

at the history

of the table

beneath his book

line after another

the night air could

tell a thousand

tales or more if anyone listened

they would hear

tonight's opera

in the city in October

the sky is extra black

and stars are visible

amidst the city lights

nothing concluded

watching

as the hands spin

on the face

through the window

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 132

decision

to make it public

one night only possible

on the fours

three times a month

everyone invited

no one excluded

open minds discover truth

nothing concluded

too many lines on the page

thoughts expanding

off the meter with these

random ones streaming

as a river with

one more line

nothing concluded

a series years in the making

unending the serial

poet rests here

beside the point

thoughts filling books

while others do what they do

or don't

try to understand

the knots

under the brown hat

not so much in fear

anticipating danger

rather in awe

anticipating change

just a part of a whole

lot more thought

spread out over the years

nothing concluded

a mantra of sorts...

nothing concluded 131

back to life

nothing concluded

everything confusing

until truth we find

ourselves alone at times

staring at nothing

taking it all in

stride we take it

faster and faster

the old lady was right

we have got to stick

together fight the common

enemy those who chose

to hide the truth

from the deserving public

sounds in the distance

some recognizable

some strange

the dog's breathing

sometimes sounds forced

as if the truth

could be should be

first and foremost

of the time

last on the list

back to reality

where someone

should explain

nothing concluded

on two Popsicle sticks

the dead bird

my bro and I found

back yard buried

memorial

nothing concluded

someone will understand

actual comprehension

will only arrive

roundabout

beside the point

nothing concluded

just thoughts filling books

while others well

what do they do

with time he would be wasting

if he wasn't inspired

to move the pen

sings a song

if you listen long enough

you will hear something

no one else does this

watching the reflection

of the flame in my glasses

half full still the optimist

always dreamed of something

partially remembered

then slowly forgotten

completely

like 79 years

nothing concluded...

stand in front of

stand in front of 
not above

peace like a dove

all we need is love

lead us from the dark

with a spark 
silent like night at the park

no journey to embark

on now the stationary plow

through thick thought somehow

sit down in the rain like a cow

stand in front of 
just like you

peace like a dove 
we see right through...

smoky gray lines

under smoky light

swinging back and forth

between what's real and what's

his imagination creation

under smoky light straining

his eyes to read his own thoughts

where are they now

asking over and over

until someone sees what's written

between gray lines...

nothing concluded 130

are we still

supposed to be terrified

afraid to question

all we are told

because of the date

day for the patriot they say

but no true

patriot could miss

the actual true source

of the terror upon us

we are not the ones

truly hated it is our leaders

who put us all

in harms way

to complete their goals

and truth

we may never know

unless we dig deep and look

into every conflict

see who benefits

they may be pulling the strings

making everyone dance

to their violent tune

one of conquest

like days of old

the environment

said to be toxic

filled with bombs and death

when will sanity

be brought back

to life nothing concluded

everything confusing

until the truth we find

and then it might make

more sense

years of secrecy

need to end

land of the free

it's what we deserve

home of the brave

enough to question

what is done in our name

with our tax dollars

hard at work making death

nothing concluded...

moonshine

watching as eyes
start to slowly close
even in this sleep
keeping an eye on the glow
cool night air
sleep before eyes
doesn't stop the look to the sky
moon shining it's own light
reflecting in these eyes
staring in the right direction...

nothing concluded 129

a chill in

tonight's air

sweatshirt

hair wet

cold

made contact

with brother

and sister tonight

felt it necessary

up later

an ash slowly

burning the leg

thought he had

sirens go all night long

hospital and fire station

within walking distance

good to know still

nothing concluded

good to know just the same

just in case

enjoying the silence

just thought to mention

to drive that point home

a bit clear the air

remove any doubt

nothing concluded

not negative

just ongoing

five or six lines

depending on the mood

at times lonely at night

the whole world sleeps

and this mind won't stop

end to the day few minutes

turned to two hours eyes shut...

nothing concluded 128

how many times
has it begun
in a different year
serial poet same point
nothing concluded

again measuring space
by five or six
at the most if the phone
continues to ring
will someone answer

he sits on the porch
third porch he's known
one with years of comfort
built into the knotty pine walls
so far so good so long

as long as he gets up
each morning
even working for someone else
isn't that bad some days
worse than others

won't understand
nothing concluded
a continuum where no thing
is excluded and everything
imaginable mentioned

until exhaled
mind wise and by the pen
in hand ready
to retire for the day at least
not as late

as it once was
when always alone
putting down this
thought not long ago
before the end

was begun and operation
dropped everything was
one the mind
though true destination
was unknown

the thought remained
until fully diminished
nothing concluded
not late on time or early
five lines or six I forget

can't kick the habit
another load
to drag behind me as I go
head high
nothing concluded...

burns away

watching as the day burns
away until night time and bright
eyes look into his own
possibly not even realizing
the strength until recently
the bond tight as the rope
we all walk daily as a part of the
life long balancing act
sometimes all the thoughts
studder step
their way through the pen
and onto the written page

watching as the day
burns away waiting until
comfort wraps around him
like a blanket in the summer
because the fan cools everything
down under comfort's arms
holding hands as he falls asleep...

do it anyway

830/2003 (930pm)

no one tells him he's

got to get this much done

in this amount of time

he just moves the pen at

a steady pace and someday

surely someone will see it

for what it is random thought

captured like snap shots

of the purple sunset sky

tonight how else might another

know of sights seen thoughts

out loud with pen and the sounds

tonight night frighten if revealed

to be more than fireworks

in a city that is more of a large town

where no one tells him he's

got to write this or that might

not be what another might see

hear think but that's the point

under the right conditions anyone

can throw down words on the page

how many will stop to appreciate

the moonlit sky

and how many will stay indoors

in front of programmed entertainment

no one tells him he's got to do the things

he does but he does

in spite of it all

whether anyone can appreciate the time

it takes or how it sounds spoken

or read out loud with no one

tell him to stop

start back up as soon

as they leave he's made

the decision to do it anyway...