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

the moment that i lost him/i threw my belongings into my backpack/grabbed my hiking boots, and headed/to the great appalachian trail/where each step i took/over the dusty earth/reminded me/of growing up//i heard my dad/in my best memories/speaking/breathing/as he walked tall beside me/and constan

It’s fire

It’s ice

It’s steam

It’s crowded

It’s lonesome

It’s good

It’s life

It’s death

It’s purgatory

It’s yours

It’s mine

It’s ours

It is the spirit that fuels the body.

It awakens fires long burned cold.

It restores the broken heart.

It heals the scars cut long ago.