This year was no better than the last...

Rant

Why don't we go underground...
Jump on a train of thought...
After everyone's done rushing and buying...
Putting up the tree...

Just bustle by...
Like I wasn't here to begin with...
And as cold as that may seem that's Christmas...
Wrapped up in a nice big bow...

And the snow faintly fell past the street light...
As it fell through the universe...
Birds may bring you honey...
And to all a good night.

Inherent Flaw

This way of life is not what you make of it.
It's not as easy as you think.

Some days I see it falling faintly,
falling from this place where days are good.

For what's inherent if there must be good?
What else would a sunny day be?

As skewed as that may seem,
I'm telling you,

that's the way things are.
For you the reader.

For me the writer.
The inherent flaw in my way of life

is the life I choose to live,
what isolates everyone else from

me.

Europa Rising

Inspiration sometimes seems far away,
like I'd be better off
looking on a moon of Jupiter.

Of the many you can have your pick.
So it goes the grass is greener,
the atmosphere meaner, and

a rhyme that could have blossomed
is just Europa rising before Io.
But what do I know?

Listen Bird

Sometimes it seems
if I let anyone see
the secret little world
I call my own
I'd shrivel up
like a grape in the sun
until there was only seed.

Sometimes it seems like it's only me in the world,
a shade of what I could have been,
wandering,
turned crooked
(on the side of the phone
that stone chat,
that fell,
what could have been a crow).

Then there's times
I know
the right call --
know I don't have to hide.

So I got in a cab
thinking thank you for the listen bird
and leaving feathers behind and
pattered small feet on the windows
while the driver laughed.

I thought of you.

My soul breathed and listened to the world around me.

Untitled

How can I move across this space?

How can I make it so my soul
is not next to yours
when they resonate
like two reeds in the wind
to make one note?

How can I change that tune?

Sliver of Truth

You do not have to be good --
you must only let the
warm soft soul of your body
love what it loves.