Sunday afternoon, October

don't look back
and keep on walking
Sunday afternoon
October probably knew
then had he been paying attention
but the young boy needs
attention, again...

going back to that place now
and eight years have passed
and everything has now changed...

brother's trip is over
sister's trip is upcoming
both are highly anticipated
long awaited

going back to that spot
in the mind
that allowed me to take
that first forward step
towards what only stars foretold
and we are seeing the same
stars as we look to the skies...

funnel through the pen

three weeks without words
in this book here
so many thoughts and lost the dread again
sometimes
wondering why
I even write anymore
haven't I said enough
on pages just like these
blank until I tear it up
old school style
head down writing until
all the thoughts funnel
out through my pen...

5 o'clock and it's dark

this morning i forgot to put socks on
then ended up walking a half mile
then got a ride to Plymouth
while at the court house
this random huge space
age looking complex
and the judge says
it's all good
no longer married...

twisted around the pen

hood up
to keep the breeze off the skull
hot coffee steams sitting
on the same table as this pen
this mind pushing thoughts
sort of like a pretzel
all twisted and knotted up on itself...

rolled that wood up
to encourage the breeze
blowing right through
one cup after another
filled up and drained
before the thought completely
twisted around this pen
like clouds twisted with the light
from the full moon...

head up eyes looking forward
to everyday as it arrives
even the tough ones
no one tells you when those ones
are coming for a visit
as they show up they are shot down
like cans on a fence
twisted metal once shot
like the twisted mind of thoughts
pushing the pen...

back yard notes under an umbrella

the wind in the trees
has always reminded
my mind and heart of fall
in the past a place we can all visit
when we close our eyes
and drift for a minute
are we in for a November
like that one in sixty-three
desperate times call for desperate measures
and they may even want the military
to police the streets...

the wind above signifies change
and since the dawn of this new spot
along the time line behind these lids
when closing businesses are all everyone's
talking about even on the sunniest of days
who even admires the beauty
anymore everyone is so afraid
to be without things
randomly riding a bike around
this small town hoping and searching
for success in one hell of a situation
and just when it's getting tough
they tell me to get out
as if it won't disappoint most of them...

constant changes proof because
topic has switched again
need a soft seat under the wind
leaves falling all around
the silence is always anything but
silent still something tells me
to wait and not give up hope
because this team is strong
and strength is what it takes
to face every day
and take it on chin
everyday if I have to
in order to make it to bed each night...

ten ten

literally standing up as straight as I can
despite the situation at hand
shaking as I write handwriting not nearly as neat
as it once was sometimes my thumb goes completely
numb as they investigate everything I have
or have not done in seventeen years of service
where will I turn when I am done spinning circles
how dizzy can one man get the news and
it may be no relief that will only come from above
in the cloudless sky it's Friday
it is quite predictable but no one saw it coming
literally hanging myself for every wrong move I have made
falling from some pedestal I put myself on when
I knew the right thing to do in nearly every situation
stuck in limbo don't know which end is up or down
below the lowest branch on the tree
wishing for some wind to put out its misery on me
before noon when some sort of decision may in fact be rendered
and if there is evidence and admission of three dollar guilt
what are the judge and jury waiting for
the train whistle blows from about a mile away
sitting perplexed at the pond an hour now
drowning in doubt wishing on forgiveness...

fortune found

visiting me at work
wearing a hat
and a sexy smile
amazing my girl
visiting me at work
with a coffee for me
do I even deserve
any of the fortune found...

under stars each night
wishing I could replicate
your beauty with words
so others might know
and I can't even come close
do I even deserve
any of the fortune found...

full moon full speed clouds

the clouds move so fast tonight
as if they have somewhere to be
or not
just wind in the trees
pretty sure they are mostly pine trees
the moon is full
or close enough for these eyes
see beauty waking each morning
being the first eyes seen
semi-conscious and electrifying
like when the sun breaks the horizon
quick as darkness scatters like this cat
and a loud noise
full moon full speed clouds
going nowhere but somehow
everywhere eye look
thinking it may be the first time
eye looked at things this way...

no disguise

hands on his shoulders
encouraging every move
as the ones on the chess board
but this table is glass
and every moment is a blessing
with no disguise
they say the depth of his muse
would astound
(if the audience
heard any of this at all...

month expires

35 minutes left this month

new month begins now

in 34 minutes

lots to say

new responsibilities

and new thoughts

watch the dog

sleep curled  up

on the BBQ grill cover

out here on the deck

the silence is so loud

29 minutes sitting

within the creativity

cloud found growing

behind blueberry bushes

backyard garden

plenty to say to anyone

still awake this late

anticipating 2011

and riches it will bring back

everything thought to be dead

new life 22 minutes

as the cats sits

back on his perch

all majestic like

an eagle or lion

definitely not a former indoor cat

split between

space and time

cat-like reflexes

probably because

he is a cat

                        maybe not...

crooked verse

gotta git real close

to the page to see

the lines so that

it doesn't come

out too messy and the kids

might bicker

all night long as we chill

everything else is secondary...

london-derry, new hampshire

camp ground seventh

grade maybe

twelve thirteen years old

when it seemed as though it would

stay simple forever...

reaching far back

and you still gotta git

really close to understand

where this mind is at

ten thirty on a Saturday night

outside as often as possible

before cold months come and

I am forced inside to move the pen

gotta git closer I guess

wasted two whole lines

because my reverse eye disease

and not-so-steady hand

scribbles away while the rest

of everyone remains

content inside all year long

it's okay no matter

we all pick our favorite

spots to ourselves watching and

listening and waiting then

changing everything upside down...

touch your face when you wake

the breeze is just enough to keep

the bugs away watching the pool shrink

and a shirt will take on a life of it's own

Joe Hanson even though it isn't his last name

it's where he's from so it's the name

he gets he says it's going to be a cold winter

and I said to Joe “it's fucking August, one month

at a time please.”

the breeze isn't going to be enough to keep

the muggy air from hanging overhead

until the sun rises again

next morning new refreshed

day off doing some paint work

together we can do whatever

we need to do and then some

the breeze sings me to sleep

in your arms tonight

and every one to come

on schedule to wake the next morning

touching your face

as we fall asleep tonight until

it becomes daylight again

but this breeze blown silence

is getting louder still

as the night wears on

the breeze blows beautiful...

nothing concluded 181

counting down the pages

until the next
just like the rest
with a few more
days added on
 
nothing concluded
further on down the road
still riding the bike
instead of getting
four wheels
 
of my own
hear voices through
the glass door
and walls
not sure what
 
they are saying
hope it's all positive
don't want to feel
as though
eye make my life harder
 
when to keep
my own voice down
obstacle course called life
nothing concluded
and more in love everyday...

inspire every night

cool breeze hits square
in this sweaty face
humid under hood
hair unkempt again
cool breeze one year ago
secret lingo
wonder if anyone will notice
the pool is shrinking
we all share these presents
before September
just how it's got to go
cool breeze
all I need to motivate
each day and inspire every night...

write by the cat

by my right hand

holding this pen

sits my cat

whiskers brushing my knuckles

as I hold the pen

two paws folded

on the page eyes closed

purring so I will bring

him inside once again

when it gets cold

he gets up to check things out

moves to the railing

to the right

mother / son conversation

a mumble through sliding glass door

two days left of summer vacation

never a good thing

had seventeen of those feelings

only remember the last couple of them

school is a joke in two thousand eight

and for many years to come

a watchful eye on what’s going on

all around slightly above

where I hold the pen here

suddenly squinting as wind

brings my smoke over his head

a big stretch and a jump

to the floor

as if he got booted off

the table…

cavity

the hole goes deep

into the nerve at least

faaahk!

it hurts and feels broken

becomes the minds focus

gives me a headache

and the urge to go to bed

smoking this cigar

outside under the blanket

of a summer night

the fire pit is unlit

can’t be up too late

no fire gotta be up

early for work

faaahk!

it’s what my alarm

makes me say

first thing in the morning…

string a few words together

just needing to string a few words together

in between puffs on the cigar

and sips from the coffee

listening to young ones complaining

that they don't want to do work

a class of us and we might all be fools

right before the end of the day

bedtime thoughts at the end of a long day

work and much contemplation

many coffees later in a smoke filled car

he used to ride all over town spend most

night sitting down and loving every moment

as we grow together string a few words together

listening to all the kids scream to get some

attention can't understand why they don't appreciate

what they have each moment...

must go

have my own room

in the tree sometimes

sitting top step on a rock

looking down into the river

everything's wet as if it rained

the stars are as bright as

if they were right in front

things must change

sometimes mysteriously

and without warning

sitting waiting getting nowhere

as fast as possible

stand stretch and go...

color dream

finally dreaming in color

everyday is a miracle

that may sound strange

like the squeak of a pen

historically documenting

what life becomes

when determination picks up

where inspiration started

the hand will never stop

even when thumb goes weak

it's too important too

intentionally wishing

a dream reality and proof

anything is possible...

one eye spark

watching the dog sleep
only light being the one
eye spark still dark
where eye park
the truck turned car
and I will walk no
matter how far it is
from here to there
and right on back
beautiful thoughts
we've already made
a stack as high as we could get
with the amount of time
we've been given
upside down and backwards
is how eye was living
everyone is walking
the usual walk
standing tall up on
the jagged rock
the boat right over into the sea
where we will sail forever...

sunday night

been awhile 
again 
since i had anything to share
my life 
still uneven 
which of course makes it odd
my cat is missing 
and i didn't think it would make me sad
but it has...

nothing concluded 180

anyone still awake

even though
the night might
be smoky too
everyone might know
 
something about
where he has been
going back to the basic
balance finally achieved
like Kaleidoscope Wine
 
nothing concluded
right back to the beginning
and over and over
sounds from beyond
the tree line
 
luring him
into a vanishing state
nothing concluded
tonight the bike ride
was a solo mission
 
accomplished with
no goal in mind
rain after sun
then sun that follows
much appreciated
 
spinning with the dizzy
strokes of the pen
and when will
the world around us
crack
 
back to waiting
for a return to the porch
holding my torch
and thoughts
always random...

hang em to dry at midnight

the bug zapper zapped so many times

I stopped counting keeping a vigil on the back porch

well into the night can of gasoline

and Buddha by my side

maybe four hundred

like I said I stopped counting

as John Connolly comes to mind

if I didn't know better

I would say it was raining

what do I know

I hang 'em to dry at midnight...

sticky

706/2008 (1130pm)

suddenly I don't have the use

of three of my fingers

numb and losing communication to the brain

outside

no roof over where I write

stagnant water nearby

attracting insects

it's a humid night

the kind you would describe as sticky

suddenly I don't understand why

things happen the way they do

why ask questions when no one

has the answers more questions

as the writer comes to the bottom

of the page and his cup simultaneously

what do you think about that?

backwards walk off the deck

and the grass is soaked

as the humidity makes the air

as thick as the cloud

the writer sits in...

keep it loose

held into the clouded sky at night

alone trying to figure it all out

side where nothing can keep me

from writing all the wrongs

from morning until night

reveals the darkness

and clearly many stars can be seen

held high above the head

offering thanks and praises

for all that has been given to me...

nothing concluded 179

and where it belongs

at last
nothing concluded
smile and finding
balance
 
here at home
in a new place
seven months in
couldn't think
wouldn't dream
 
being anywhere else
so eye breathe
smoke like a dragon
even though
the night might too
 
anyone still awake
can't even find the lines
so faint fall down
and rise up
with conviction
 
nothing concluded
just continued
another day
with the most
beautiful ever...

what happened

when did everyone stop

giving a shit about everything

gas at the pump wouldn’t be

$4/gallon if we gave a shit

enough to take a stand

say something

anything

speak your mind

eye share the broken tooth

scream out loud from the roof

we need to be change

to win the info-war

and to keep up the fight for truth

one way or another

and before another word

ask all over again

what happened

when did everyone

stop caring…

all the moments

all the moments
we have shared
rushing into the mind
all at once
so hard to imagine
not taking the chance
where would we be
seeing the moon tonight
through the tallest
tree in the yard


all the moments and sunshine
out on the deck
together we can do
anything with all
the moments
everything with us
is so beautiful


all the moments
add up to one
night after night
discovering
happiness all over


all the moments
when no one knew
but us and a chosen few
cat-tail question mark
“who are you?”


all the moments
across from those
eyes-I am the luckiest
one all the moments
are ours to share
together as long as we
both still breathe we will
walk around
the block together


all the moments
adds up to one
love said it before
never meant it like this
time around
I am not judging
myself for mistakes
none here where


all the moments
love the attention
given to such
detail is amazing
the closer the better
all the moments I have
left I want to share them
with you

wishing on one

transplanted two

wishing on one

the brightest above

standing below as if eye

know something

the others don’t

drinking coffee

as the night

wears on deeper

the darkness rolls

over in place

and that might

not even make sense

to many and too many

as eye dagga down

until irie as the village clown

spinning around to see

who comes back into view

black sky will eventually

turn back to blue…

nothing concluded 178

under that same

cloud day after day
become one
with the cloud
eye made
 
nothing concluded
another night
another complaint
about the way
things are
 
and should be
over again
head over heels
and two times too
just for you
 
understand that cloud
again working
hard to maintain
balance
falling over
 
the second time
making it stick
back to where
it all began
nothing concluded…

the way it is

spinning having

to realize it’s never going

to be an easy walk

especially now

the world being

the way it is

sixty books

filled with random thoughts

no matter

what you call ‘em

still thought

somehow harnessed

long enough

to be captured

as if by camera

the way it is

up in smoke

dad would say

think about him every night

remember being his boy

only yesterday

mental pictures

bring you back to

the way it is

no hardly

a car drives by

no noise

‘cept those natural

ones so much has

changed from then to today

the way it is…