Love that remains a noun

Love that remains a noun
A rock that never moves
Stuck in a Zen Garden
With stagnant rings and grooves

So it is left in peace
No hands, no eyes, no hearts
Where there is no courage
No Life can grow from starts

Greater significance

Greater significance
Not God or self, just All
Caught in other's ripples
Choose to be box or ball

A lonely Spring passing
Magnolias survived
Without the bite of frost
No questioning derived

Like a Sunday evening

Like a Sunday evening
A sweater, summer's end
In moments filled with grace
No sun but sunlight bend

Deciding how to spend
A few hours before sleep
Two tangled and tired vines
Will soon be counting sheep

Out from the abstractness

Out from the abstractness
Plain sheet of white paper
Clouds are just clouds again
The cirrus that taper

Understanding the self
Contrasting the beauty
Of others, in others
Is this not our duty

Fighting finished battles

Fighting finished battles
Adding to casualties
After smoke and losses
The inaccuracies

Reenactments echo
The things that were not said
After the battle ends
They might as well be dead

Blooming until breaking

Blooming until breaking
Brief as youth, rekindle
Invitation to Spring
The years only dwindle

Utopia chaos
Is there a perfect flaw
Residing in winter
Contemplating a thaw

Here, a beautiful cloud

Here, a beautiful cloud
Passing as people pass
Like generations and
Mem'ries that didn't last

Against a sky and time
An ago that won't wake
Eternal lullaby
Nights without morning break

Our hearts are not broken

Our hearts are not broken
And certainly not blind
This cold indifference
You falsely call unkind

They were once a gift in
A mutual exchange
Where we found familiar
You found nothing but strange

The incredible inch

The incredible inch
In an abstract exhale
Pushing the Picasso
Outside the frame and nail

In the ruff of a void
A small cloud creation
In the inch of darkness
The spark of sensation

At the start of morning

At the start of morning
Heading north while the light
Approaches like a yawn
Slow stretching out its bright

And all our past travels
To see you in the Spring
Bringing your begonias
For your garden bed bling

No, life is not an art

No, life is not an art
It has large blemishes
Our own darkness in a
Darkness that flourishes

Unseal the blackest box
Continue seeking light
Climb east hills in morning
Descend west side 'til night

Somewhere between the stars

Somewhere between the stars
In the nothingness there
In the yawn of Big Bang
In a place without air

Answers or lack thereof
And time without meaning
This is our condition
In the inbetweening

I will not partake in

I will not partake in
Escaping, not real
Better to face events
Understand how we feel

On the edge looking in
Pulling myself center
Leaving the exit sign
A door meant to enter

Again the Overwhelm

Again the Overwhelm

The abstract and random

Like a foreign language

From a distant kingdom

All at once understood

Fluent and poetic

And then a traffic horn

Injects the pathetic

Injury 'til winning

Injury 'til winning
But not cleaning your slate
Contradictions on whims
All of what's yours is great

Staring with Stevie Smith's
March raindrops on black twigs
Graffiti my presence
And take personal digs

More and more a calm sea

More and more a calm sea
Cirrus clouds, a tilled field
Stalks of serenity
With contentment the yield

Weeding each and every
Pulling roots like carrots
Deciding, delighting
Farming our own merits

Allowing the sorrows

Allowing the sorrows
Of others to pregnate
To take residency
Inside me, incubate

The sadness, suicides
Through my skin, penetrate
And in darkest darkness
Hope tries to germinate