was that wave
aimed at
me..
or someone
behind?
held the door out
of pity
or
just to look
kind?
offered help for
the thank
you
or just to give
blind?
i’d be grateful, were i
in the right state
of mind.
spiritual evolution
peel off
a little sky
to peer into the
other side–
unless too
shy
to behold what’s
beyond
bounds of one’s
own lawn,
i understand
the fear..
it keeps my eyes
down here.
a wave to packed bus
rushing
away,
the lovelorn
shuffle
home..
to crash on
couch..
to revisit the
hours..
to loosen my
belt-
and smell summer
flowers.
fresh cut
smell
on slipping
day,
holding
on..
only to watch
it fade,
deep gut
swell,
the night grows
bare
little left to do
but stare.
craving inner
silence..
but dreams mostly
of violence,
wakes up to own
scratches..
clutching a book
of matches,
yet rises to
face..
the
quietness,
a lioness,
she is.
absence grips
on tightly,
thoughts of your
warmth
remind
me..
how
to feel-
with empty
space
beside
me..
but never
inside.
too many
angels
for sinner to
handle,
one hand cups
a candle,
the other gets
burned–
in healing’s the lesson
learned.
the waiting
room-
a loaded
queue,
all doom and
gloom,
called to a
room,
rushed out a
door..
without the cure that
i’d hoped
for.
the waves licked
your toes
like they craved
adventure,
and you sunk
into sand
like ship beached far
from known
land,
and your
sails!
oh those majestic
doves..
waved back at
the sea
as you turned
to me.
untethered the
summers..
laid shaded
in shame,
flattened by rainclouds
we could never
tame,
unshackled the
remnants
of steel round
our ankles–
thankful for a break
in the grey.
hands in the garden 
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