Loom

When I read a stranger’s poetry,
I often do prepare
for too much sentimentality
and more clichés than I care bare.

Rhyming words are thrown abound;
archaic words are too much seen.
The poets merely like the sound,
with little care for what they mean.

But sometimes, I’m forced to stand,
and I pace around the room,
for the poet has put heart to hand,
and deep within me their words loom.

Mine to Ponder

Thousands of movies and books
have shown me things that I’ve not seen,

but I don’t know how it all looks
away from the pages and the screen.

I look out upon the falling snow
as it paints and fluffs the village yonder

and I see it as some art to know,
with the rest still mine to ponder.

Bite

Bite6 Poster

I see a human
across from me.
We’ve got no common
philosophy.

When I was alone
and judging rough,
I had no doubt
that I’d be tough.

But now, I’ve hopped up
like a goat;
my canine fangs
were just a gloat.

My wolf howl
is diminished, hid.
I’m just a gentle,
trustful kid.

Let it be known
that if I must,
I’ll put an end
to betrayed trust,

but I hope
we’ll be alright.
I’ll never be
the first to bite.

Music Land

I have a home
away from here,
but it’s not on
the map.

Pluck that string,
give it an ear;
I’ll show you
in a snap.

This is where
I’m truly from;
it’s beauty,
so profuse.

And if you would,
give it a strum
so we can
cut you loose.

Now the music
swells within,
and we can
freely dance.

We are touching
without skin,
so let’s explore this
vast expanse.

If I lose you
along the way,
just hold out
your hand.

You can listen,
or you can play
to connect in
Music Land.

In Dreams

In dreams, you are alive,
and we glide and visit places
that we used to hike and laugh
with sunlit smiles on our faces.

Birds perch and sing;
snakes soak up the sun.
The topics we discuss are wild
and our meanderings are fun.

But heroin is sad and boring
and so, I think, is being dead.
On both accounts, you took a path
that only you would tread.

I never understood the craving;
I built a statue out of sticks,
and fished for answers in the river
while you went and got your fix.

You’re never coming back,
and the dreams will never end.
Waking life is so much better
when we hike around the bend.

Snow

My thoughts are flakes of snow
and I am buried deep.
There’s nowhere I could go,
so once again, I will just sleep.

I heard a blizzard’s closing in
and I’m fully prepared;
I felt the frost upon my skin;
Emergency’s been long declared.

Maybe this time, I will die,
but I don’t care much for fate.
Perhaps the snow’ll pile high,
or maybe I’ll just actuate.

I Will

I’ll turn the table upside down.
I’ll face the couch towards the wall.
I’ll yank a pen out of my heart
and draw myself a path to crawl;

A path away from the abode
that is too lifeless and too dull,
and that’s held me in too long
like thoughts locked in a prison-skull.

I will emerge in timeless land
and explore the melodies I find.
I’ll climb the trees, and swim the lakes,
and forget the dead place left behind.

I Forget Things


I forget things
way too much,
and my dream-wings
curl out of sight,
and out of touch.

I have forgotten
choices I’ve made;
the fruits are rotten,
but they were ripe when
I picked and played.

I’m shocked to see
where I once stood;
high up, atop a tree.
I remember now,
oh, that was good!

I’m here again,
but forget I may…
Wait, where’ve I been?
Oh, I remember
this form of day!

My dream-wings shine
and I feel them stretch.
Fresh fruit is mine;
The seeds are for
the ground to catch.