with hardness of heart
great gnashing there will be
lost in eternity
if one came back
they would see

then one spirit says to the other
i will do it this way
the other says no .
and i,.. - well i, ..
i get stuck in the middle

reflecting my Father
brings light
to the darken glass
mirroring His love
will be my home pass

missing little piece’s
buried in the box
no edging left
can’t get through the locks
to retrieve through ground

the understanding
can be had
as we sleep at night
may we play in that land
the land of spirits

and as the shopping gets to heavy
you find someone to lay it on and
pulling the crust off could make i
yolk don’t mix well with it, you c
that the sea gulls land on the moo

some grow up
with a spot to fill
a title to live
a for runner
of things to come

was going to put it in the mail an
but changed my mind fearing the en
words sailing in a little boat
crossing the ocean and the moat
landing on shore as waves guide

my soul - cry’s out
try’s to seep out
leaks out
fly’s
in drops

the goose bumps
resonating
essence
leaking out
as emotions

the thin pentacles growing tentacl
covering over as if by suffocation
the dwelling in which you live
and know what fine line lays
between each second of a minute

we were young as we walked through
the pearly golden gates
scratching our head
from the dandruff attack
that we breathed in

you yearn
to turn
and churn
but you can’t learn
as the eyes watch through

the day was thoughts
and the ladder long
waiting to fall
was willing to harm
connecting the dots

the land stars
blink and rise
under the pale pink sky
singing as they dance
to the tune of each others hearts

the moose twisting his antler arou
as they all stand and stare in sil
holding the wall up as normal as e
without the thought on the mind -
that someday this adventure will e

would be like finding the end of t
only you weren’t looking for it
to the surprise of not many days l
shaken and stirred, mixed in a way
of never to be separated again

the rabbit left no ladder
the climb –of no way
no bounce of the mushroom
no tear in the ear
will help –end this sway

as if sealed away in a locket
not willing to remove it from the
set on fire, ready to sail the roc
range hindered as it’s not in sock
heart beating to the melody of a h

the tender curls of the leaves
bring the gardener to his knees
to touch the softness, stroking it
it’s not time dear to go into hidi
stay and splay your beauty more

the identity of one being ripped a
as if covered by the snow
with each layer
the complexity rises
in the melting pot

she set the easel up
steadying the back leg with
an old glue tube
while raising up in her chair she
spots it, there it was,

tenderly stitching and pressing li
velcro, button or safety pin
at this moment to begin
the stimulation of the trust
while adding some lust

if it was as if the butterfly
had just landed, no –lifted in fli
or the breath of it
just touched the branch
as if begging for (information), h

such imagery...
as i was coming home this morning.
then reading the imprints you left
lightly dancing on the soft pink c
over the white horizon in the mor

i tried sign language, the languag
they call it, the mating call, the
of the pelican to the penguin as t
and you see the light through the
and know that there is hope, waiti

feeling threatened by the trees
with their icy glares, reaching
as if i am the flower and it
the gatherer, some call them,
others write notes and send them i

i weave the butterfly hairs
into your looks and they look
like feathers blowing in the airs
with no one to read the book
the tongue stopped by time

death the dash
is released - freeing
the colors to see
and put in order
to climb the spheres

as i went to leave a comment
and say something like– gold
isn’t gold with out the fire.
and then i doubted
as if questioning my own beliefs

i know that and long for that day
the day of pearls, will i get one
to polish and reflect the light
under your wing, holding the star
from shooting to far, because thes

you have away of making three equa
mixing the blue and yellow to spea
measuring the depths of the roots,
putting the whole on the scroll
and sealing with the kings ring

it just comes to me
o yeah,
that would be good
in a poem
so i write the line

i don’t know where they come from
i don’t know where they are going
they have a mind of their own
they speak about UN-understandabl
i sometimes search for them

what is the focus
while the continuous diving
off the plank is performed
for art sake’s
the seeping in as moths

23 is for telling of the others be
22 is a good one to find
21 is in the counting, registered
20 times if added right, will come
19 penny loafers for sale