right now, I am a rough draft.

I am left here to be

looked back on and revised

Standing alone, solo

In the darkest shadows

She would pour her forte emotion into piano whispers

Although she is afraid now, her goal never blurs

A old man beyond salvation

slumps on the ground

and prepares for his end.

He starts listing what he doesn’t have

“These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume.”

-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet 

One star, a single shining star,

Made us today, who we are.

When rocks both smooth and coarse,

Came together with force.

When the galaxy was new,

Something in space was a brew!

Some of my hobbies include:

writing

and baking

and looking into your brown eyes until I fear that I just might lose myself inside of them.

A few of my favorite activities are:

drawing

and sewing

Red and burning

Heart jumping

Pumping

A whisper of excitement

Concealed behind hesitant lips

Waiting to slip

Forget.

It burns

It burns deep inside

every drop that runs down

your back as you ignore the pain

correction after correction

being told you aren’t good enough for it

I'm not sure if the glass is half empty or half full. 

Coffee shops leave me homesick for 8 minute drives to your cul-de-sac, to your arms; you're always busy. 

I am a strong young man exhausted from my ways

I’ve been in eleven facilities but nothing ever seemed to change

Until one day I felt his grace and heard it say

Come to me my child and I will take it all away…

Twirling

Twirling-Twirling

Along with the shhing of the pointe shoe on the stage

The smooth, sweet music playing to her sharp moves.

From his lips

To the paper,

To the teacher,

To the air,

To my mind that will not recall.

A thought may amble a bit ‘till it trips to a halt,

            ‘till it ticks up a halt and a half.

Slams to a door and whatever blue-black residue flirts with the hinges,

This curving,
cynical back behind me, it’s:
A warm bench,
A warm chestnut bench,
A warm chestnut.  A cold foreboding pew.
Luster here has now turned bland:
contaminated with waltzing dust and
a reek of pages
not turned for a decade.
Maybe more.

The sky was an abyss of gloom,

As the trees billowed in the breath of the wind.

The stars sang secrets to the moon,

Above a castle holding lovers within.

An age-old monarch was outraged by his daughter’s betrayal,

It is a wall.

It is stiff, blank. Unmoving. 

It guards the paradise 

That she knows belongs there.

It is a stone

Waiting for her, the sculptor, 

To make it mean something.

The form of letters slop and curve on a page

like a human body. 

White paper, bare skin,

The line of a belt below a belly button:

the line of a notebook just below a sentence. 

The insistent decision that

The world is beyond repair because

No longer will

Human nature fix these things.

Negativity and pessimism

Invade the land of

Enthusiasm and assurance.

The problems remain

Because

Hello? 

I am looking,

Through windows and doors,

Looking at trees and between the shores 

For that spark.

The little thing that ignites souls ablaze

Propels emotion to heights unknown 

There is crimson and blue on the floors,

Where the players shoot, shoot, shoot, and score,

In the stands the crowd cheers,

For all of Lawrence to hear,

Basketball is in our DNA,

Ever since James Nai,

When I look into the lonely night sky,

I am reminded of yesterday’s passion.

Didn’t the stars fill the sky last night?

Didn’t your face reflect

The radiance of the moon?

We made music in the air, dancing

Under heaven’s light.

Give me an unagitated evening,

where I could sleep-walk

under a light rose-petal sky,

and arrive at your door,

40 miles away,

just in time for dinner.

Have you seen her? You must have seen her,

she’s one of the trees, with all the rain

that she can bear:

Eye color? Colorado green.

Hair color? The evening sun.

Don’t mistake her voice

for the hidden opal stream.

A star-studded with nothing but dreams,

Walking the path she had laid.

Big things would come they say,

Nothing but lies through the door way.

Sometimes all it takes is

A lyric of a song 

A fragment of a conversation 

A moment captured in a photograph 

Then suddenly there you are 

Using whatever you can 

Napkins, paper, your own skin 

I believe that I am tasty Hershey Bar.

I’m 4'11" and, I think I’m as tall at the great big Redwood tree.

I’m as handsome as a daisy.

When fall comes it brings multi-colored leaves that are the best to look at.

I believe that I’m a great big shiny star.

I am in love with a girl… who is afraid of breakfast,

who brews coffee in the morning like gasoline feeding a starving engine.

Her fingers dance around the machinery of her waist out of step with reality.

Not all passion is love or an action, 

it is a feeling and can be full of hatred.

The enemies of which we seek,

the monsters that we associate in our dreams are stuck within our heads.

The fans knew it was the end

Their championship hopes were looking as bleak as a stormy night

As the star player fell down in fear

There was a crack that was clear

For his leg bone was fractured with an ambulance near

I can hear the loud silence

coming from the 100s of seats.

The pristine Steinway grand sits right in front of me.

I touch the black bench and feel its leathery surface.

I sit down and realize