We stand near a window, always looking down

Watching all the minnows, their schools flitting around

We laugh, we cry, living this of all our lies

Capering on point, where, life seems meaningless

Without understanding, reflections shine darkly-

Upon, those who would view others from up high





Without a Verse

If at once, you judge him well

and count the curse, without the veil

You would know, in times he failed

Without a verse, without a sail


Then I had heard, him say at last

This is no life, there is no mast

I have no point, I have no caste

For what is life, without a past


But here too he was wrong as all

Life is not a slow-rolling ball

It’s fast and free without a wall

And doesn’t care if you have crawled

So why not stand and face it first

Without a verse, fighting your curse

At the table

He sits quietly at the table

Thoughts are fading whispers, blending with the surrounding

They don’t know he’s unstable

Mental fissures abound, separate lives straining for release


Another speaks loudly

Contradicting the spoken rabble of unrecognizing fellows

They, use ignorance proudly

Acting as though the Tower of Bable were an umbrella of wisdom


He never wanted to sit in this chair

Dreams and glittering things always seemed so far

Now he finds his reflection stares

With marked dullness, eyes always ajar


There may further be hope

He’d known one or two to break away

But familial chains create rope

Settled lives require his day


Solace creates comfort on its own

Sacrifice the past for the future

His life is on loan

The father must be a producer


Galloping along the fevered road

Chronos calls us still

Instincts say it shouldn’t slow

Others feel terrors thrill

The night arrives, heat unbowed

Sun hasn’t had its fill

When icy burns announce their turns

We all pay the bill


Seeming in the multitudes
These lights, are, quite oddly hued
They snap and click like fireflies
Moving between, the lows and highs

The children move among them now
Without seeing, this I vow
They press in, then move away
Throughout the start and close of day

The hues, they change again!
From blue to a strange blend
I cannot see, for the light so blinds
Recalling such sweet bitter times

I’m moving toward the brillance now
Courage can’t let me bow
I stand within the strange accord
Feeling like a false bright lord

The children, they grow accustomed to me
Moving off in pairs or threes
The lights they grow dimmer as course
No adult should reach this source

What’s Real?

He collects a strange assortment of things

things no one else can see

they sparkle, glow, and live with glee

soaring upon wobbly wings


They traverse all sorts of pathways,

the wise know to avoid

creating untold entrees,

waiting to be employed


They start as simple things,

a touch or smile maybe

they flow upon glowing wings

creating moments of ecstasy

but soon enough, you’re in the rough

wishing for memory


My Canvas

Every mark upon my canvas,

tells a different story

I would not wish them to vanish,

or live without the glory


Each stroke upon the fraying sides,

another stroke of wisdom

Each mistake found, without a rhythm,

creates a better guide


No man or child could go without,

a few more splashes of paint

No matter how you puff and pout,

the artist will not feint

For those who find a blank canvas still,

your story comes, it has a will

Along a Stream

They sat along a stream today

Letting worries wash away

Without a word said betwixt the two

They nonetheless enjoyed the view


As close as two boys could be

They lied entranced by this small sea

Wondering on futures not yet

Allowing for failures just met


Though one of color and another not

There was no difference you could spot

With exploring eyes and scrabbled smiles

They watched the flowing liquid miles

Without a word spoken to another

They found a world for just two brothers