The grass was recently mowed

(trimmed really)

flowers now…

spring is life

they say.

A black iron fence wrapping

around…square stone

blocks

what were once

people…her,

him, mom, dad…

son.

He is here because

I am

here.

The cold of the

granite

against my face…and…

my soul; my

past.

I can’t forget, ever

ever..but

here I won’t.

Here; where spring comes

where grass is

mowed

trimmed

where I

am.

Now.

Tomorrow I will smile

remember

laugh and…

feel.

Tomorrow I won’t

be here…and

he will be

with

me.

Again.

The boxes lined up in the hallway

front to back

they

stood at attention

waiting

waiting

waiting for the call, the time

to be right.

I moved today

yesterday really, kind of

tomorrow

too.

Never ending I think, never

again

I hope.

I am back in a house I left as

a different man

as

a different idea.

The boxes will never

ever

ever

unpack themselves.

I found a suit while

packing

moving

worrying…

It was in a box that was labeled something

else and the suit

was new…

once.

The house I am living in again

the stairs

the floor

the windows and the

air…

I am wearing that suit

again…but…

I will never

be that

man.

Hmm…texting as a brake

A friction that prevents

Depth

Creating barriers

Making words lose

Meaning, lose

Relevance, lose

…Soul.

I think its speed;

texting is just
talking

With thumbs, yeah, with

Fingers…but;

Talking.

Speed kills moments, kills

The need

The want, the…

Truth sometimes.

Speed; to-get-it-out-before-the-next-message-arrivesOMGIcan’tgofastenoughanditisallost…

Speed

Not text

Kills meaning

Understanding

Text me back?

😉

I actually sent this as a text to a friend of mine thinking myself oh-so-clever as she mentioned that she couldn’t text an idea because, well, it was texting for christsake…

I think of white linen, white

on white

on soft skin on

time…

on and on.

I think of time that

slows and

stops; I watch

feel

listen…while

I smile.

I think of soft hands, fingers

floating

skimming

sliding

across skin across

the room

under white

sheets.

I think of half opened eyes

a slow blink, the

shifting sun through

almost closed

drapes.

I think of you.

The clock spoke to me

early this morning

insistent really

said that yesterday, that

yesterday is my greatest influence

wait…

My mind stalled…an instant…a

decade:

memory projects a movie

click, click, click; old 8 millimeter

thrown hard against

cinder block walls

behind my eyelids…

why?

Why is yesterday so muscular…so mean, so

strident when right now

right now

right now I look toward

tomorrow.

I’m half sad, all confused…

why can’t tomorrow be my

muse,

influence,

master…why

should I listen to who I used to be;

the man

I was, even…

even if who I was

was only

five minutes

ago… twenty years…damn!

Ignore the clock, I say, pretend the

somber

repetitive

restrictive words

don’t exist, don’t

mean anything.

The movie plays on…meaning,

telling me;

a beginning…

a middle and

an end.

I cannot have tomorrow

without

yesterday.

I want it

but…can’t…but;

I can create in today

(something

an idea…a life

that didn’t exist

yesterday)

so

the alarm clock

has something new

to tell me

tomorrow.

I will wait

to wake up

to see…to hear…to be

who I am

then.

I found myself on fire

with the spark of an idea

watched as it consumed me

and then let me go free

I walked around the country

with an eye on the horizon

watching for the end game

looking if it would be the same

The people that I talked to

the many and the very few

were all about the notion

going through the motions

I can’t stand the idea that ideas can’t stand me

Where I am and just who I should be

I am going where I should never have imagined

dreamt about or had my thoughts fashioned

Finally

Waiting at the big gate

thinking of what I can say

when he lets me go inside

to the place I can’t hide

seeing all the things there

people who knew and cared

looking at me sadly

relieved and…smiling gladly

I can’t stand the fact that facts can’t stand me

Where I am and just who I should be

I am where, now, I should never have imagined

dreamt about then or had my thoughts fashioned

and I wonder now of that fire

the spark that took me higher

always just inside of me…

that finally set me free

I have seen my death

a thousand times

steel, concrete, razor

blades, iron

in cold dreams in

darkness

in light

chilled to the

bone I have felt…good…strong

and

happy… yes, happy.

I saw;

I know where and

when…I think

I know

and it’s not

tomorrow or

tomorrow’s tomorrow

but

later…or I don’t know

(it was a dream)

but

I don’t care

there is so much

going on…living

lightning and thunder

leaves, sky, smiles…

dirt on bruised knees

flash of a

grin

six years old

so much

left, so much

to go.

The world so huge so beyond

thought…and

fitting in the palm

of a

hand.

Having seen it

felt it

smelled the coppery

red life…leave;

I know

I am

alive.

I awoke this morning looking

all the world

like I knew

knew where I was going

who

I am

and laughed.

I don’t.

Cars crash

people

die

countries war

against themselves…against

life

rocks erode

shorelines change

things disappear

I wake up

and

it is…what it

always

always

always is.

Except when

it

isn’t…then

it is simply

merely

entirely

completely…

singularly

beautiful.

Shock of waking

blood moving

beating, bumping

eye wiping, lost in

darkness

no more

lost in

dreams

no more

lost…no more;

brightness condensed

evaporates into

thin

air

taking sightless sleep

taking

lost dreams

taking

it’s time

The morning quietly

roars,

muted ocean…bed

placed ear

drum…heart

beat

lamp switch

shower door

pan handle

broken egg

coffee cup

the

day

and the rightful

sad

mourning

morning

the end

of

night.