the journey

Where there is feeling there is healing.
Where there is healing there is growth.
Where there is growth there is understanding,
and understanding brings an appreciation
whether good or bad for the trek that we call life.
It is never fair. it is never even.
It hurts when it should not.
it ends in the midst of joy. it
weaves a tapestry of sadness and pain
of joy and sorrow
of melancholy days in the sun
of passion filled nights re-run
we who carry on bring comfort
for those who have not faced life
before their time.Dear Cassie
we must remember our lost ones
in their prime full of life
lest we fall impotent and
no one is left to remember
them as we do.

blues man

As I amble towards
this last goodbye
lingerings of dealings
scatterings of faces
distorted places
burnt offerings
frail sacrifices
abandon me
it is as though
the music went out of me
it lost its interest in me
a roller coaster
living in me
while it all becomes
settled in my mind
sleeping with my
dagger not so to find
you see for with my
dagger i can make
you stagger alone
down a twisty muddy road
where blues men
strain sorrowful notes
through whiskey bottles
and cigarette smoke frame
soft and sweet tunes
milky white, pink tendrils
reach ever upwards tinting
the walls a sublime pink
magnolias to caress my face
Sonny Terry invites me
inside out of the snowy night
and into the world of
coffee shops where effortlessly
his blues harp tears apart my soul
courtyards holding hands
gently kissing ruby lips on a
milk white palette.
all of this comes back to me
As I amble towards this
last goodbye

death upon my soul

i imagine then
it is past
time to say
goodbye
and watch
true love die
for you see
i cannot bear
to feel every tear
upon the fabric of
my soul
i failed to reach the goal
for
i knew when true love died
it's when i said good bye
that's when the music
died when it lost
it's interest in me.

on days past

focusing on the
kitchen chair
steadily i begin
to stare
at the molten
marble
table square
yellow and white
flying creatures
lick and bite
what is it
walls are breathing
watch my fingers
bubble, seething
is it so
it must be so
for now does
my toe slowly
split in two
a funky
gibbet
molasses in
green says
the spiteful
whippet
Mickey and Donald
slip out the door
as the floor gently
masses a
wave against
the wall
collapses
ceiling breathes
tile and ceramic
wreathes
what am
i obliged
to do?
strain away
from four way
hits of
window pane