I without you cannot tell

A dash of midnight

And hour of sun

At three am

Is no fun without you

And this reflection is nice

By still waters and rivers

And yet

The future holds

A different type of movement, still

For you are there in dreams anew

And I without you

Cannot tell of

This us

Saria

How she ignites

When you see it

You can't unsee

Or unfeel the warmth once felt

How

With a girl

The sun shines up

And in such a steady way

Radiates

Itself into the most receptive side

Of once shadowy eyes

That is to say

To us

You all glow

Like westward facing moons

And ignite

Such spontaneous smiles

In the eyes of all men

That we never knew such capable feelings were

Inside

Saria

A memory dawns

I look and look
At other futures and see

What could and could not
What I choose and choose not

How these memories stick
From such a childlike innocence

And with prior versions of me
I wrestle roundly no more

Instead - give me a new dawn which I've yet to see - and I will run to it

Now

A coffee ocean

Waiting for a wave to crash

In fifteen still

Four shots of black

Like an ocean please

Wash over me and fill

My tongue with songs

The likes of which

I'd never known before

But will before too long

Miles apart no more

Miles are only relevant to

Those hands who hold

The wheels which turn

And the feeling of warmth

(Between such two)

In truth

The best

Are either nowhere near

Or one day incredibly found

Most near to you

True

Saria

Many noises

A room fills

Like a fishbowl with noise

An impersonal haze

With a dim rumble

I groan

Or something which can't be recognized as self

For thoughts are self

And words are words

And humming is drumming

And chaos is corse

And those around me, in obliviousness, do not know

The overcomer

Wishing I could share

The shaking memory of South

Which occured beneath the same young sun

Not so very long ago

When I was just as young

And fire filled as your beating heart

Which lives its fullest on a run

And in ending finds

A great joy of knowing such moments past

The overcomer who has overcome

And the minds eye sight such as this

Which to us at least

Will most certainly last

Such a crowning day

Headache Love

A fog rolls in

And these tides swing out 

With noises crackling cackling sounds

My head a drumbeat sounds out

Pounds 

And I wish again for a steadiness of voice

And a trickling stream

Which in you I've found

Saria

Someday I

Someday when I am

I will finally be

And on my own stand 

Most solemn 

And proudly

And lonesomely

Just as my own father did

When he began again

After the goodbye which meant

No opinion was ere longer free

For we all must say goodbye

Most sadly, sometime

Storms and sights

After every storm

New plants grow

Old water flows into new

And life lives in some form

Renewed and born again like hopes

Though when there you find yourself

Within the storm

It is you who never knows

The sight 

Dedication and building

A man who builds

Only fanciful nothings

In his head

Will be remembered for nothing

Because nothing has neither spine

Nor concrete 

Within minds embed

Childhood droplets

Where wishes drop

Like condensation droplets

Spilling over into a new circular form

And down

Into open eyes of upward wonderment 

There

Where is nothing else but safe and warm

You can be drenched but not in a storm

Secure and yet never truly born

Of yourself just yet

So when the time comes arise

And dry yourself off unwet

Be me, please

I tell myself that walls I need

Or skies or eyes

Or tempered caffeine 

I tell myself most anything 

To keep the forward creative dream

Just in front of my dark cinema of eyes 

And yet in realizing

See only this sight sighing sight 

For its me in the end

Being the only one who keeps

My hands from molding beside riverbeds

Of thoughts most deep, and cool, and free

Be me, please 

Old valleys low

Though love persists 

For these distant halls

Of memories to which I

A sculpture of rocks

Did once attest and insist upon

Their memoires keeping in granite hewn

Know this

I can not 

For any such halls which will not

Nor ever would they or I

Equally ever want to be my own

Call upon more than a memory still

For I waste no carves or cares or concerns

On those whose whose care only for my name

And for what I do or with it do

And by this association keep

Barley as a line of limestone

You will never know me through and through

As my true heart does

And my lover will do

Though I appreciate what I once thought you were

Facile

Cutting Haiku

A most weary mind

Knows nothing of the sharp where

Such cutting thoughts ran

God is going

In asking and seeing

How his goodness gives

And in your getting found

There ought to be 

A certain level of trust

In what is going to be

And how within such scenes

You yourself 

Will survive and about

Coffee over apple fritter

Dark glazed bark
On a tree soaked storm of wood
Ripples deep with condensation
And yet with a saturation thin
As a mother natures skin

So also these trees never shimmer but shake
This mositure from their limbs
With an endless breeze and a summers stint
Amidst sunnish whims
No storm can touch these trees again

Once grown

Turning to the see

Somedays you
To the river walk
And then down to the sea
To draw forth water and a drink
But there is nothing to be found
But land
But what you can see

Man unmade

The only true original
Unordained and planned out thing
Here atop this asphalt sea
Is really just me
And my written word to be

ashes atop sanded stones

Old is old

And set like stone

In minds of traditional raising

Like trees

Their roots grow deep unknown

With reach unseen

But wood is wood

And grown is grown

Some seeds will always spread in woods

And amongst the this olding moan of moans

Which echo still above the snow

For nothing changes beneath this hearth

Cept wood and fire

These ashes atop sanded stone