Eight. At the gate, to run to heaven.

Seven. I cant remember when the last time I had sex.

Six. How in the world will we thrive?

Five. Survive the foul odor?

Four. The smell hung in the air unrelenting-ly.

Three. I can see from here the road youll travel.

Two. The last gravel drive.

One… then there was none

“One more for the road.”, he said before he left into the darkness upon his motorcycle.

“He didn’t make it home.”, I heard over the phone as the quiet was deafening.

“Where could he be? Its now past three in the morning!”

The sheriff just pulled up. He asked for a cup of coffee.

“Old man died today, when he hit a tree. No skid marks were seen.…

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Whence the tiny girl did cry…to the poem said I, “Don’t cry sweet pea.. you see the bee, dance in the race? Full of grace and off to make some honey.”

Asked the tree to the flower, “Do you charge by the hour, for the sweet supplies you feed her?”

“No” said the flower, “she brings to my heart the messages sent from my lover.”

Now in full…

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Your my cheerleader. I look to you. Im in the middle of it and thrown to the ground. There on my sidelines your face I search for… the light of genuine joy radiates and sparks my spirit. Your pride hits me deep inside. Thank you.

Sweeping steps and jumping kicks dig the movement. Fingers snap the beat. Spin around. Two step or ballet… ballroom or in a line. Joy erupts each misstep…bounce… take a ride and glide tip toe in the grass… plant the foot… heel toe heel. grapevine left… repeate…big Finish

Strawberry hearts topping the whipped cream tarts.

Blueberry crush dripping purple juice across the white linen cloth.

Chocolate covered cherries with stems scattered across the lace layered fabric.

Peach gush fountain with splattered droplets sticky sweet.

Orange tango dancing sour circles around the tongue.

Carbonated bubbles popping against the can side… rings in patterns… fibonacci spiral… smoke rings rise through the air swirls and separating… ringing in the ears can not be suppressed…birch trees barking to the rhythm given in. Scents of rosemary and mint drifting in.

Ubiquitous love…soul song moves.. water rises.. tide washed stones…

Fibers entwined… holding us together…

Sinew attachment… holding peace together…

Salt upon the cheek

Flows river from eyes

Cleanse my soul

I am pulled to you like a magnet… I see your text… the warmth rises… anticipation for the next word… sunshine on my cheeks… cherry pink lips… await your arrival…

Longing and devotion.

An emotional abyss.

Struck by passion but drowning in apathetic tides of mediocrity.

Grief or love, they walk hand in hand.

Friend stay close

I see you.

Narrow mind thought.

Limited.

Hard.

Travel the path.

Walked.

Step.

Education sets stones.

Unmoved.

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Roaring past in discordance. Hoofs pounding the base rhythm.

Don’t stand. RUN or be moved not of will but of force.

A powerful dance surrounds the unwitting. Marionettes of God before they fly away.

Wild and passion to the core of cacophony tuneing for the next production.

Stay in the house, safe behind 4 walls. Oh, but Life is rich and will play on.

A good man died today. His life was riddles with hardships but he always kept his faith. His mother died when he was young and his dad could be abusive and cruel at times but when he was hit by a truck his dad made sure he got help he needed. Therapies and God got him through.

Alone, he spent his final years in a nursing home, with bad…

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Your scent lingers on the bed where you left a lie.

The words sting at my eyes.

Standing over the railway. The track of the life on which my train travels, watching each swing, sledgehammering and building a foundation only to realize we are not on the same track you built a switch line to somewhere else and i disnt look far enough ahead to…

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There is something to be said about a flame of red. The yellow and blue.

Red likes to dance and singing songs of old. Come jump. Go before it all burns down.

It does not compare to summer sunshine yellow. The gold stays heavy on my heart. Dare I say it keeps me from falling apart.

Blue nothing said its true. Hotter, brighter, piercing.

2 am again. Soft golden light streaming lazily across the room gently planting kisses between the shadows. highlights to curve and slope of the forehead, random hairs spun gold, nose, cheek, and lips. Slightly parted lips that once were insistant on finding mine with mint and spring flower luster. Now they spew a sound that could only be a…

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Sleep. It eludes me, running cycles in my mind of past days.

All or nothing.

Sleep. Dreams manage reality, compartmentalize the trauma into boxes fragments of time too much to bear alone.

Reorganize the structure.