revelations abound

what a strange season
of upset winds and fabled gusts.
darkness stirs and
neon bright blurs colored spread across black water puddles,
and every hurried upside glance
resonates avec moi

the land of opportunity

oh, in the land of opportunity
i see a shiver in the waves from the
transient effect of the moonlight's lazy glow
glistening on the water like the sleek shiny black backs
of salt ocean mammals, to and fro;
a mountain's scrape across the old sky line
its heavenly splendor spilled rhythmically
down the old rounds and up again into the
darkening clouds.

oh, in the land of opportunity
come chances bright and shining clear
we determinedly set a course
for any shore that's shining near
with singing heard above the noise of
crashing waves and desperate gulls
i'm circling boat around the drain
for reasons that i can't explain

springing

so much of joy is
hidden in corners and crevices,
shadowed, obscured by the
light of the mirror,
and bruised by a slight brush of
the fingers.

withheld

only now can i see the things i've missed
and every time i read again will i remember what has passed
and what is there but there to know
of world and man and lastly self?

touch the sky

diamonds sing something fruitful brings
sun shining gleam across the chariot race's dented rim;
without itself it quiets down and settles in some
unknown town
but now it crows its mighty wind jostles the
assorted wigs and tablecloths aside the
dusty curbed street miles' line

man's modern interjects his
empty nest a foreign debt;
his crowded alley holds the weight of all
the world's gone wistful dead

his bird has flown, her eyes ablaze
is upside forth and backward gaze.
the anchor huddled her callous wrists?
as she tears away, she tears from his.

the arms they bore held open no more,
but for sake of sake, the ground's embrace:
and for all the doubt we live within
the disappointment leaves a taste

forget me now, and forever be it so
that you may have some outstretched hand
a tongue's tip wrapped around the
sorry mix of dull little letters that
scrape our sounds and make a name.

free me from your memories
of times impressed upon you deep
to have some recollection of
the thoughts you have of me.

release me from your
monstrous gaze, i beg of you to let it be;
the flight of love decays of days
and harmony begs of you and me

madness

of some madness I
to some degree
and to say that I am mad
is to say that you agree
when is it that you recognize some
maddening mess within me?
perhaps it borne as you asked yourself
am I mad, or isn't he?