Spring Lies Beneath Death And Distant Light But Yet I Dream

I dream of wild flowers scattered
across summer dresses

and moving rivers shattering afternoon light.

I dream of colour:
the world exploding into sunflowers.

God’s palette
is a sweeping meadow
and girl’s laughter.

I dream of jagged shores breaking waves
from which great symphonies arrive.

The Earth is not dead
beneath all this death.

Come
come closer
you far away light.

Father’s Stress is Now My Stress

When I was a child
and Father used to come home
from the plant or the yard
and later on from the office

I used to run into the kitchen
where he sat reading the paper
and jump on him screaming
as I’ve been home all day
smashing trucks together in the back lot
and he needed to know how exciting that was

Sometimes he was unresponsive
even angered
but distant mostly

His face was a lump of frowns
His eyes were closing
hands etched with tight veins

Mother used to say that he had a hard day

I never understood what that meant
or why Father’s face was so long
and why he looked so tired
irritable and angry
Over very little

But now…
thirty years later
I get it.

oh yes,
now…

I know exactly what she fucking meant.

It Gets Harder To See The Way

It’s hard to see the stars
from the gallows
or a smile through tears.

It’s hard to see rot beneath beauty
hope beneath shame
love beneath all that hate.

It’s hard to see change at the end of a gun
peace through the flames
or God through all that pain.

It’s hard not to bury
not to burn
not to break
because it’s hard to see the way.

And it gets harder to see

every day.

Falling For You

I’ve fallen for you
and I’m still falling
like out of a plane
without a parachute
or from a building
without a net
without a care
without a worry
without any concern
at all
it’s just so rare
that sometimes
it just feels good
to let yourself
fall
to feel yourself
falling

and when I hit the ground
as I surely will
it will be with
open arms
and a

smile.

People Get All Up in Your Shit

People
get all up in your shit.
They want to know about things.
They are far too inquisitive
for my liking.

They are always
trying to shamelessly
peer
into my windows.

But hey,
come on in.
Pour your baggage
all over my coffee table
because we are all
just wounded animals
in a great war
beyond our comprehension.

So why don’t you make yourself
right at home
because you’re going to
anyway

and we’re fresh out of dreams.

If You’re So Smart Then Why Can’t You Clean Up Your Mess?!

This world has shrunken to a room
filled with maniacs
and guns.

Everything
outside the window
looks like it’s either dead
or on fire.

Anything between is only deception.

Corpses rush through traffic
so preoccupied
with time
as the coyotes wait for darkness
sitting fat upon their faces.

The sun reveals
the presence of walls
unacquainted
with so-called mercy.

The sun rambles
it goes on and on
like the last drunk
at the party.

Nature wants not your genius
if you’re so smart
then why can’t
you clean up
your mess?!

I suppose that it doesn’t matter
the sea will claim us all
in the end
whether we understand it
or not
and I do believe
that it is time
for another drink.

Something sweet

Something dark perhaps.

Karma

Not every good person wins.
Not every bad person pays.
Not every smart person
knows the way.

Karma is a story that we tell ourselves
so that we sleep better at night
with our debts.

With our children beside us
we look out the window
and only see night
but sometimes we can also see
a distant light.

Sometimes it’s enough
to wake them up
so that they can see it too.