I will not cry
the mantra I sing
I will not cry
through eyes that sting
I will not cry
the sentiment sage
I will not cry
as tears wet the page
I will not cry
Because I am strong
I will not cry
a meaningless song


Moonlight swims
through tears and fears
it blurs at the edges
of truth
reality curls itself
into a tight ball
in the corner of your dreams
fetally clutching at its sanity
it curls in on itself
and hides from the darkness
without within
honesty vomits
in the weeds
along side of the path
cold dew clinging
as crickets watch on
and laugh

Night Music

In the darkness she comes
through the open windows she climbs
or through the screen porch door
to wrap her arms gently around
and sing the song of not quite silence
the song of the night
the quite whisper
of the wind in the leaves
the crickets and cicadas
crying in the summer’s end
the hum of the neighbor’s heat pump
are they really missing
the beauty of the song
deep blue taffeta
drapes itself
for the dance that can only really come
with the night music

Hiding in Plain Sight

I wrap myself
in the warm silence
of anonymity
I walk among you
one of you
yet not quite of you
You see me
you step around me on the sidewalk
you avert your gaze
so I know you see me
or you would never even bother
into this life of fiction
I crawl
hiding in plain sight
of anyone
who might care to see
but no one sees
no one cares
no one bothers
to even try to understand

hiding in plain sight

sitting folded hurt and small
back against the cold tile wall
shower raining down on it all
washing away the tears
evidence is gone but not the fear
alone and lonely I am here
Silence closes quickly in
above the city’s rumbling din
What a game, I give up you win
Just leave me here where I sit
cold and alone precipice hit
nothing to turn to but my wit
buckle on a smile
only fake it a little while
Till back alone again mile after mile


beauty consumes regret
as regret lays rotting in
the wild of the morning
crawl out
of the chrysalis the shell
from within
fight your way
strengthen wings of brilliant color
soar from the rotting carcass
that is no longer

Have Pen Will Travel

Sitting in the middle of everywhere
going nowhere
a traveler
have pen will travel
wrapped in the knowledge
that everything is transient
that everything is perminent
that everything is nothing
and everything
and nothing is everything
all of the universe is in the stardust
of which I am made
the ghosts
of what was
of what could have been
of what never could be
because of what is
and the lost of all that what is
is lost in all that is all there is