fleeting days of honey...

sticky, like the aftermath of
swollen fruit
the hours run closer
my eyes blink

leaves turn

an invite to be sound
really try to sensualize
the rain
sip a moment that cannot
be avoided

organic.

a smile that's real
pulls from the heart
slow, but risky
and feels so good

you flex like a breeze

contributing to
decomposition

one side of me surrenders
but
i still want to be a wild flower

fireflies

a galaxy of bioluminescent memories
explored.

the responsibility of our species
implored and becoming realized.......

the iron scent of blood reminds
me
straighten up. sweat rolling off
my back.

the world cycles around us.
life inside

concrete, thunder, hands, and
a smile cracked.

we've found too much. only so
many of the riches can fit in
our pockets

a heart etched out of steel
of old times.

shimmering free in this
impression.

st. cloud

mac and ray
again, peddling through the sun...
beautiful day through the gorge
over the bridge of the gods and
back through a wind that paused
as we ascended.
the cool air seemed to veil us
from the sun, though afterwards
we found our faces and legs
pink, tight and radiating some of
its heat.
and the mind is a funny thing...
taking us in and out of conversation.
philosophy talk, goofing, and then
caught in the depths of our own heads.
speaking when necessary,
but some things are stronger
when left silent.

gritty kitty

no better place to be
it's very curious

riding so hard into your thoughts that everything surrounding
you commingles with your
energy
you've found inside that place that seems to pulsate with the earth.
happiness, stress, courage, along with every other emotion is entangled,
driving like a drill behind your heart to cause an immediate response.
you think:

strange, what am i doing here on this bike?

your mind wanders from the present.
possibly the rapture of feeling is too much,
idle thoughts are easier to come by

fuck, why does that sara mclaughlin song keep coming up?
shit!

oh, yea. you know what you need to do. stay right here
over this root, up this, turn here,
there you go your body is in sync again.

just like meditation

beautiful thoughts. that's better. you're drawing upon the
inspiration of the strong people in your life...

they are
not afraid of embodying emotion while traversing a moment
confronting discomfort
letting go


you're lucky to have their strengths along for
the ride to keep you moving.

tough, ardent, honest

then you realize you've been speaking (to yourself)
simply organizing the many dimensions in the being
through
the echo of ingenuity

markings

willowy enough for me?
experience etched out
of something whimsical

following a hard line
to catch the last breaths of
sunlight.

and i exhale.
you do too

i can't speak of destruction
with too soft a voice

sing strong even when the walls
are crumbling
he says i live beneath the dust and
dirt.

perhaps when the illusion of where we think we're going settles around us our contentment reaches a pinnacle in the depths of our heart. art and love seem to make sense of foolishness, of brut thoughts

grow

until i become immortal
i'll continue learning how to be
human.

open to the pouring sky

i write because of the outside influences.
the variables that make the journey
an experience.

so that when i see a scowl on a face
or creases of laughter around
a pair of eyes
i will better understand the soul
like a lover's
rather than that of
an enemy