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Here's some more poetry of the bi-weekly, untitled variety.

untitled 2012

easy, honey.

don’t fall asleep with the horror movie on.

take

your time soul soul.

don’t

just climb out of wells with bare

hands.

it is good to wait for the rising tides,

to

dream of better worlds,

to hide the best of your

secrets.

chance the cold night with me.

go the distance.

in seven days,

one

week one

week

,

we’ll go down into the valley

and

cut the longest strands

of

our hair. leave it there.

nothing

so frivolous matters

.

and then, after many months of wandering,

we’ll

come back to the same bedroom. the

movie

will be over

and then, gently,

rest your head

.

(danger

wild and free

untitled 2118

when are we

going to see, sights and

sounds,

through blessed eyes of peace”

she asks, fighting

off

a recent flu.

the sky grows purple, full

of heavy mist,

full and terrible.

but she smiles.

Cindy the dream has

had a knack for

the mystic.

all her life, created only

to

uncreate the drab drowsiness

clipped to the average day.

it is in her little life,

the movements of her limbs,

across the fields of unseen dust,

the change, the casual change

,

that she says,

“all of sorrow is gladness.

all of life is good.

to be and to dance, to die and to

lose,

to feel pain

and

to grab whatever one may,

is holy.

it is not too late,

not now or not ever,

heaven or hell,

we all have chances to see clearly and to see the ocean.”

it makes sense to her,

in her

blood and in her flesh

.

sickly coughing,

Cindy can’t understand anyone else

.

untitled 2234

the goal is to be closer to happiness

every time

love is had

.

but you’re a shell. broken darkness.

big

empty parlor on the boulevard.

don’t get disheartened.

it is easy

to become hollow like dancing

with a slut.

it is easy to drown in a river.

it is so much harder to take a black

eye from a good

good

friend.

it so much harder to

make love

after a year long absence of anything but

devils in dresses

.