OUT HERE

tell me who to find.
to fix, everything I see, that is wrong

tell me who to call, about this leak. about this broken arm, ....
all day long, I field offers, from well wishers
who want to .... what you've become.

stay low.

and our time will be our strength.

soft, spaceless moments, like pulling a tag off a new shirt, or trying to unstick a piece of tape from a package.

when your eyes see and your ears hear and nothing else is going on.

THE DESTINATION

a hawk soars above a rocky clearing
the air between the anthill and the tree, the tree and the meadow

a distant car whips dust across the frozen desert highway.
the sound between the hammer and the steel, the drumming in my ears and the roaring in my heart.

a fire crackles, warming a pot and stove
the warmth moves from wood to water, from my blood to yours

the ashes stir in the early hours.
its almost impossible to tell, but a change has taken place.
we are no longer moving, yet the world still passes by

THOSE DAYS

in those days,
we ran aground against everything in our way
and fought the tides
as they pulled us out
struggling
against the everyday

I cant tell you why I did those things
in those days

Watching You

like a pinhole, in a giant sheet
covering the entire sky.

aher

Morning

a song of birds and violence

everybody
needs a shot in the face
every once
in a while

About the Sea

how many nights have been spent
tossed along
as you sailed foaming oceans of reckeless change

i was with you,
some nights
as others were with me.
I have never slept well knowing
that every sea, comes to a shore

Is It True

I long passed the day
when you turned
from the sun
with something to say

and seeing me

you ask

"is it true, that
you are trying
to write the truth

without meaning the truth?"

Joint Membership

i finally saw how hopes and dreams
can crowd out what matters most..
how you can look so far beyond your own life, that you stop living.
its a simple word, a simple fragment of a sentence, something you never read, something someone told you and you neglected to hear.
a fire burned out , the charred remains tell you nothing of what it means to be warm
the empty pack of cigarets, sliding along a flowing stream underfoot
caught
in the wedge of a tire and a crack in the sidewalk, nothing in this pack, nothing can tell you of blue smoke and long evenings of conversations, stretching into morning, stretching into weeks
just as a knowing glance, or a smile as you turn away, can tell me nothing of lions roaring in the jungle, and distrustful eyes, scanning the trees.
the only words you hear are from yourself and even then, I rarely pay attention.