Morning Cold

In the mornings I
Feel cold as death
And down as settled snow
To the clinging ice of ground
Until
The sunshine comes
And melts away
My morning doubts
Into an afternoon confidence of
Why not
And therein then truest me is found

A morning interview is a death wish
To the likes of me

Someday

Someday

Forests will refuse to burn

And cold will rule

And I will fly

To a different kind of earth anew

When my spirit spark to write has died

Someday

Pens the words

A speech is only

As predetermined to a crowd

As the writer in mind

Pens the words before

And then shares them aloud

As truth perceived

Forgive

Fires do not rage if tended

Wound will heal if properly attended 

And the mending of lives may commence 

Unintended 

Is never the root of such healing in hearts 

Or in minds semblance found 

As with stubborn feet planted

Instead just walk

Not away but toward 

Tame fires with eyes 

And use healing to cure

Lest your love die 

And trust me you don’t want that, my friend

Newly one, a tanka

Careful as there is

No second chances for this

Simple us of some

Impartial innocence since

We are two now and newly

Timeless sight

There is no christmas morning

Like the first sight of last night

Neath windows round and veiled

Looking up and down

Both now and forever

Into an ocean of desire

A raw galaxy of pleasure

And therein truth

Lies an honest you

And me together

As one in dance

And unstoppable two

Life enlarged is changed again

Growing is to become

Not just larger

In the pursuit of life

A size of sorts

But to realize that

If wishes do come true

Than life undoubtedly

Undeniably will

Change like stars

From autumn spring to sky

And the same will not be here

Or you

Fame is human magnification

Great names

Of a human nature

Are only great

Due to the magnifying glass

Held by the other human hands above

Such striving is striving

For memoric episode beyond the grave

And striving is not fate

(Or so I find)

Vision and feet

It is quite natural for

A visionary to despise those eyes

Which are impressed upon the floor

And trained to seek no more

Than the next few steps beyond

Tomorrows bounding doors

Thats fine

And to be expected

And even understood

But that doesn't make the footing

Any less assured or unsure

It does not, obviously

Horrible coffee, a tanka

Overly flowing
Is the unattended cup
Left in hand to be
A burning and a viscous
Lava overtipped on me

Life proceeds

Life is not something

Which so simply can be said

You are living

Instead you are breathing or you are not

You are an intentive being or not

And all you see before you is built

By time or mind or hand of God

And something not is life

Proceedes

Only, if, then when

We thinking beings

Are not always but often

The kind of thought based creatures

Which think, only, if, then when, I will

And yet

What is always most true

Is so often not what is thought

Or felt

Or experienced

But instead what we perceive

As the next step is wherever to be

And in what direction

So is our choice to be

Determined by mind?

Selfundiscovered

Finding who you are

Will be

Is about as easy as

Remembering what you felt

Last week

At a random hour of unforseen

And perhaps

Even when you were asleep

Even then as you are now

Wake up and be

Grow and fall alone

I love to care
Like trees grown close
To houses friendly
The kind which generally are well situated
And never stand alone
And yet
I also like my leaves to fall
In quiet reflection
And sunlit pools
Alone in autumns last sun lone

I need this
For some reason
I know

Life in flow

Here nor there

Is neither me

This inbetween

Of worlds above

And skies below

My life has twists

And turns like road

And yet forward

Always I will go

When roadside flowers

Were my aim

At start of seeing

My life in flow

It is you

With every day

You choose

Far more than you realize

In everything

And everyway

A direction moved

Like the queen of your own chess board

Infinite in truth

You

Yes you

Make the decisions which guide

And shape your future life

Into being with each breath renewed

It is you

A hearfelt distant tanka

Wanting is not wrong

So long as obsessiveness

Stays it own true course

Beside itself and at this

Once heartfelt distant balance

Silence is a song

Tune in sometime

To the silence that is

The quiet opposite of

Your obsessive song search

For descriptive meaning

And sound

For in the opposite you may just find

Yourself and in new ways

A silent focus to be found

When the song for which you reach

Is entirely your own

For once

His becoming comes

Young ladies hear me

Men are oftentimes

Not what you see

Instead you should look

For what they are becoming

For there you will find

Far more of value to see

And not always, but often

The closest thing to that sight

Is dad

En work

Years ago

When our father's worked

In lines and mines

And now instead

I work in mind alone

Creating value all around

And everywhere I go

My, how times have changed