Wednesday, November 26, 2014

We love each
other's beautiful souls

and that's enough

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

than evolution
we ride
waves into the brutal
time machines of her

Monday, November 24, 2014

You want to see
my joy,
you'll have to be very
quiet my love

(so silent as to not hear your
own heartbeat)

You'll have to let not only my story
go, but your story about my story,
and your own self that you see in my

after all that silence,
then when you let go of that silence
and see the stillness
and find what is behind the stillness

Then there is something for you
my love

Teen dream
of escaping Christmas
(the Western nuclear conundrum

Thirty-something enter the Asian
Miasma (destroyed in it's facsimile to emulate

Burned out, scarred by fire and sent home
by the embassy

only to return unbroken to the
teen angst fears
humble facade of crumbled

it's only tears and blood my
we can burn them away,
let's burn them away
my hippie dream is sleeping (dreaming)

in a Mexican poncho
with very long hair
with grass in his pockets

Old Vinyl (Beatles, and Dylan
and such) spinning

Poetry on napkins
everything coffee stained

Her reflection of
herself in

was a shattered mirror
she was afraid to look at

Fractured beauty

maybe the part of her
brain that felt empathy
was turned off by her
own pain

and that pain opened another
part that told her she felt what
others felt

through the shattered reflection