And these are some that me and my friend Dan coauthored.


A Chance Sky

Unknown to ground beneath my trodden feet
I was continued by that cloud,
blanketed by misty sheet...
creased and curtained, shredded shroud.
Restless or gray?
so far to say...
to watch the way it floats
I have to call it both.
Continued - trying to forget in the horizon,
which always receded:
all the subtle wisps of cloud
the winds of change I wish I needed.
Can one trust a wistless submission?
A cloud can't move of its own volition.


Tilted

stumbled on him as he sat
at a quicksand pond
tracing his bare toes in the silt

watched her lay her body flat
from behind the fernleaf frond
her beauty on it's back to stilt

sigh to scream, to sweat from matte;
sediment covers bare-skin bond
in inching moments, caution unbuilt.



Transcented

We merely knew
it wasn't human nature
to love
only what returns love.

A reclamation of potential,
and the acknowledgement
of something more
than just compassion.

And by the same mystery
we knew
it was divine seed
growing in us.



Unveiled

sipped once-known dew,
to fall into
the world we find -
in kindred kind,
in place divined -
is only once in childhood.

With it where the world stood
betrothed to such ephemery
the rest is merely memory
and wherewith it was wrought
is held as tiny as a thought

a place we knew beyond recollection,
in certain flashes we glimpse perfection.


Long Ways Home...

Held aloft in wanderlust
just nowhere, home where 'no' is just
creation's source,
the death of beauty.

Where home is just the way the light
turns in her hair,
how so many tangents set the same path.

Two voices speak to me:
one your voice,
the other the actions in your hands.

I cannot discern my yearning
between the one, and the other.

Absorbed in hard solidity
none stop to see or pity thee,
except the occasional me,
who would wrench out your divinity
and feed you your potentiality...
could I but keep a semblance of what is pure
from all this burning.

In the land of unmaking,
the glamour of death unwound -
two mouths are silent:
one in awe of destruction
both in being kissed.

It's rarely seen,
what lies in nothing except between.


-untitled-

You
are all that's wrong
with my life.
And I need you.
And I claim you.

You will have to crawl on all fours,
through the burning
to reach the bleeding.
the other side of the wound
that I am embodied in

And I
I'm all that was right
with your life
you need me
and you'll have nothing
nothing to do with me