To Dream

She wears her mask of sadness,

The same melodrama,

night and night again.

The butterfly trapped in shadow

spins in late cocoon as time wheels on,

a bare chain of what eternity left behind.

The same tears rip seams, pour forth,

Bleeding from the same tired portrait-

dead wings still fly,

dead profiles still walk,

the last of the soul still burns;

Still, her wicked beauty lives ever in fire-

her hand traps all that comes my way.

Once, I was the sole spider;

This glistening story flooded turgid,

Draped in canopies of rain-

Came the sun upon my palace,

struck all but the bottle of her flame.

A Struggle of Dimensions

My thoughts were once fish, yet
Stretch legs from bare bones,
From weak, unceasing whispers-
A destiny called forth.

Fledgling ripples, unrelenting blooms-
They peel away at the subtle veil,
Rising, unstoppable, tangled
in the ancient shadows, the stranded light

dancing on the surface,

crumbling in mild conversation-

All but the movement of a subtle line;
Still is the pale night, above and below.

Full, clear waters fall glassy, now blue,
The sky, just another surface on this one,
Now gated hastily too-
Shadows and bowlegged trees stand,
Twisting in locks of oId.

How impossible it is to stand still,
to take the living ghostly candlelight,
cut its seams from the water,
wish it free.

Dream's Doll

She smiles, truly hapless,
A creature of not thought,
Not love, true longing,
Not really existing- right?

She aches at the core, the
Plunging, surging maze-
Caught in endless spotlight
Where all the problems hide.

A story, a story- a dead heart
Told, untold, told,
Interchangeable, perhaps,
But sad, and a bit real anyway.

Luxuries

The bars, like gold wires
Drawn from smooth flame-
In these cold nights, they bow
A bending, wondrous welcome.

Pulling, pulling, the molten cage,
The unhammered rivers fall
Quite minutely, a magic told
The air around to cave, to
Spread some weakness and fly.

It's all just to fall, unhampered
As broken voices speak tongues-
A past forgotten, uncatching,
The empty molds a-waiting.

Friendly Monster

Letting go is simple, why
The thing falls up, clawing,
Shredding gravity, screaming
At rare, questioned mercy.

It climbs, beyond the trees
With curlicue written love,
Black as the day it first drank
The brilliance of the sun.

Your name, in unending lights, now-
Ugly black tears, unsmearing
Where you didn't swallow them,
Such shallow, shallow agony!

Your name, an old vow
Sworn and signed all over the sky-
Unbroken, unfulfilled, gone,
It's still yours.

Beyond Giants

A small person is gifted,
Sparingly, the biggest secrets-
Lying awake, in his small space
In his small soul, in his soul's soul.

It becomes a journey, a fight
He wants and needs- he is lithe,
Tipping, walking the line
Between glory and vanity.

This world seems to big, too low, up
For anyone on that tightrope,
Dangling between
The man next in line and
Too many means and ends.

Dear World,

Note that I feel shame, for
Finding,
Seeking,
Looking on- just for Beyond,
Which I strive for.

Pen after pen,
Notion after notion-
Taken from an endlessness,
It becomes mine, somehow.

Soon, this shall be mine,
So very mine.
You will not be mad,
So very mad.

For now, I am my cage.
You are your cage.
I'm not yours, AND
You're not mine.
Yet. If ever. With love.

Sketchpad Lullaby

The world is all of yours to draw,
A breadth beyond your veins.
Each breath you take, a step you make
To drive your treasures, reined:

Your logic and a dripping brush
Upon a mirror pool,
Dipping where those fall in place,
Your arcs and your slide rule.

Your needle and your nimble thread
That prick a harvest ripe.
Sow and sew of all you need,
And nothing more, that type.

Someday, like me, you'll turn your page
Upon this canvas world,
This world you shade in all its shades,
Says an oyster to its pearl.

Daydream

The heart does sing a prideful song
That waltzes on the tongue,
A pittance, that the sweetest air
Jumps down a healthy lung.

Such joyous things, it sweeps and sings
When parting with the mind,
Sipping from a sweetest dream,
A tired road behind.

And yet, it knows, as it grows and grows
That hopes have far to go.
It did get lost at journey's end,
Its story yet to flow.

Fallen Stars

Once in a forgotten lullaby,
A powder brush slips
Against a seamless sky.

Unpainted stars
Fall upon the formless night,
So many lights
Gathered, crumpled,
Chipped mistake of dawn;
But shadows of the day.

Still, the lonely moon sulks,
Turns a heavy cloak
Past a stencil print:
An exquisite corpse.

Summer Patchwork

A refuge, equal need and deed
Unsure of how to sleep,
Its patchwork quilt of memory
Too many seasons keep.

Just half a canvas short, perhaps,
Of pressed pastoral dreams,:
A summer harvest bloom and ripe-
But deserts at its seams!

A country autumn, postmarked, then,
That splatters humble groves,
The waiting smiles of cinnamon
That crackle at late stoves.

But shores that whisper close to home,
And not two months away,
Can bake a winter heart in sand
Too slow for longest day.

Diminished Discovery

The dreamer with her palette stay,
Blind with color, peace of mind.
Struggles in their cradle lay,
Their anguish not their own to find.

Shimmering rows of gladly found
Enjoyment, their unsaid find.
Who is a novice, loud to say
They'd know their skill in quick rewind?

A foolhardy price, for endless dreams
That dangle in their dust,
For a heart so wound in lines of silk
Should forget metallic lust.

Living In A Dream

Lost in a dream where failures get their chance
To be more than mere fancies set aside.
Getting there first may not mean sure entrance.
Acceptance is up to time to decide.
Success not defined by numbers or fame.
Too little is bare for the eye to see!
Unwritten are the rules to play this game
But yet, this chaos is heaven for me.
A labour of love brings a bliss enough.
A dream keep me grounded when times get tough.