Following

The shadows are marking invisible
threads on the white walls

rotating round and round
dangling sparkle
by threads of
iron and steel

a compass the guide
wind winding blowing
shapes that will
never repeat unique

space overspun
in glorified ambiance
the thick track

treading grooves
waterfall and back again
the bars crisscross
a hatch pattern

in the deep dirty earth
mounds like body parts
emerging and digressing

slip in side slide
between
glass and wood frames
without ceilings

its source shining down
to amaze us again
while we look up
vacant
in our own worldly wonder

imagine an infinite explosion
and the light streaming slowly
cast over everything
precious and semiprecious

buffed to a shine
a little leash
to make us submit

to our following

the gold square

Thumb

My balance bound in a stride uncertain
Tipping topping toes
My fingers graze the contours of the unseen shapes

I imagine the scene before me
a wide expanse of green fields
and I fall to the ground

in a tizzy

the tall grasses
my cushion in the tall grasses
the tall grasses

I see shapes in the sky
I touch it with my fingers
drawing the outline
with one closed eye

a breeze rushes through
the atmosphere and my blowing
strands of hair

there's color there
in the space behind my eyes
what I spy in the daylight
descends
transforms
a mask of its double
in the darkness

its likeness in the hollow
faint and drift towards
the unconscious

a swirling unease
the catapulted delight
bellowing broadly

the warmth of the sun
shining down again

Pink Railroads

Impossible

She had dreams
of doing things
she could only imagine
in real life

Flying like superman
off tall buildings
Swimming in rough waters
and basements flooded

My baby's in the corner I have to save her

Tricycle became bicycle
Double dutch wasn't a mystery

How to figure out this mess
How to figure out this mess

She dreams the impossible
But I was holding the winning ticket

I listened to the numbers
the code
My hands trembling and contented silence

but the dream hasn't bled yet
to the storm of the waking world where
a tornado the stuff of nightmares
creeps around corners
and all I want to do is sleep

Jump Rope Collage

Etching

I could settle in
to this comfortable place
wishing for the years
to consume me
blankly

Free
and bound by
all your words
cascading
digging trails

Peering inside
the dusty windows
empty bottles
and dried leaves
all but forgotten

I'm pulling you
up by your
hair
and fingertips
lingering prints
etched in my eyes
burning regret