4.

like a kind mirror my friend reflects me; i can
pour out my heart and watch it dissolve like
incense in my little wooden box; pale light
confidentialness writes peace, draws it on my bones,
and my heart feels fraternity expand me like joy.
so now i know what they are, these ones we call kindred;
but i grin always warming to lifeness in affection for
a sister is more precious than a friend or lover
when two-of-a-kind always beats an ace
likeness like snowflakes i guess when snowflakes
are similar - i think they are - but snowflakes
don't reason; from clouds and snowflakes
my heart of hearts sees come from flight and light,
and i'm not water; but snowflakes are snowflakes
and people are people
and close enough is close enough to laugh and
understand my friend as my friend does me in this
fraternity that i love
and family supports and family draws near, when
life runs around like a kid yelling in my ear,
to bring me home to my Heart a half-globe away
or to run like a man for my God-given faith --
it's family that loves and loves not with strife
to let me be me in my God-given life

3.

i want to live on an ocean;
know something so well
that everything i write
drips of it.

i have lightlessness.
driving alone for what feels
like hours
or minutes
late at night,

finally lulled
asleep by the stillness,
then rudely interrupted by.
daylight.

2.

solitude is my own little island
not like a desert, but with a hammock;
i sit and i think; i relax, and i pray,
and i read or sing or play music for my ears

the perfection of silence is not an (un)heard snore
dreaming is such a dreadful bore. draw the curtains,
send them furling, don't leave one curling --
just keep me reeling with any tired old lore!

dreaming dulls this boy's scheming;
made lovers and friends or
maybe i philosophize before grasping and
chasing before fleeing my ....
so much the same

run at the first, pursue a nothing at the next;
grasp at the third and pontificate before
my mo(u)rning of my flight and my grasping -

but it's that darkness of night that gives me rest,
from grasping and chasing before fleeing death in my chest,
it's better than the crowd of the day that clings all over me
and my hammock -- reminds me of more time for reclaiming

maybe, it's come to my attention, that
i don't sleep because i have nothing to chase
some (no)thing in my heart that needs a little space

vile creature of ancient lore (high school)

Vile Creature of Ancient Lore



Once upon a midsummers day, while I wondered what to play,

Poring Over many an old an boring visual lore --

While I sweltered, nearly sobbing, suddenly there came a knocking

As of someone gently knocking, knocking at my bedroom door

"Its only my mother," I muttered, "wanting me for some tedious chore"



"Only this and nothing more."



I remember clearly from the dog days of summer,

When every old paper made a clutter, a clutter on my bedroom floor.

I yearned for the morrow, hoping to escape the sorrow,

The sorrow of the days to follow-- sorrow for the endless chore.

The pain and anguish of an endless bore.



Endless now and forever more.



And the whispered unfurling of the curtains near my bedroom door,

Taunted, haunted me with movements that mocked my endless bore;

So that now, to quicken the lull of my heart, stood I pacing, repeating

"It is only my mother requesting I work; Only my mother asking me for some tedious chore."



"Tis only her , and nothing more."



Then suddenly I did recall who was in the house: Only myself, and that was all.

"Ma'am?" I said, " or Sir perhaps? Truly for your forgiveness do I implore,

and so for nothing more. Very gently were you knocking, and truly was I rocking,

back and forth, slowly in my chair. There did I wake and there did I ponder,

who was at my bedroom door..? There I did open my bedroom door.



Darkness stood there, and nothing more.



Into the abyss stared I, for lack of anything better to do,

Scanning the hall for any trace of voodoo, Thinking the things man oft' dare think.



"Is it darkness there, and nothing more?"



Amid the still silence of the darkened corridor,

I rang the works, "Who stands there, knocking at my bedroom door?"

This only I uttered, then hearing these words, devilishly muttered,

"It is darkness here, and nothing more..."



"Darkness there, and nothing more..."



Then into my bedroom dashed I, frightfully stirring,

Yet again heard I knocking, knocking at my bedroom door:

much louder than before. "Of course!" I said. "Tis only my mind, and nothing more!"

"I'll look again just to be sure; Only once more -- just to be sure."



"'Tis only my mind, and nothing more.."



Then opened I the door, hoping to find darkness, and nothing more;

Instead, before me stood a vile creature of ancient lore;

those terrible eyes, the eyes of this beast of yore, just outside my bedroom door;

"Only my fear stand I before," to my heart did I implore.



Darkness stood there, and nothing more.



Surely my fear did it sense, as it stood I before;

heaving, staggering its breath, it grew our deathly rapport:

"You shall want in darkness forever more -- forever more."



Darkness stood there, and nothing more.

1

waking dream or sleepless specters,

wracked in wont; he wants the more.

it is the heart, all a-fettered,

that looses grip on his there and now

to pluck ... or draw ... 

or smile his eyes at solipsism in un-faith

by mourning or laughing

with crudeness autumn devils that stole Godly peace

pace the mind and drag to disgrace

and ground that bites the cold to rest

a brunette smile and hope to linger,

in trope, like hanging rancor

on a drive where backward is ..

backward is gone when the past flies away

running sideward to escape and skip the hard race

between heartbeats and stillness

and temper and scheming

he goes to feminine whispers

with curls and pretty eyes,

waking, sleeping, cascading again to

blot out the Light where horizon's eyes and fatigue

meet fury to live through nights neither good nor gentle

raging for the Living of the Light that won't fade;

don't fade.