Courting oblivion

Courting oblivion

Slow dancing with one hand

On the backside of joy

At the end of a spand

Requesting a polka

Or perhaps a high leap

I am not a tulip

Closing at night to sleep

Generations and waves

Generations and waves

Between us and eyes fall

We can never be owned

And yet we miss the call

Flowers grow in grasses

Sometimes the stream still swells

The ferns multiply and

Years without parallels

The only blue is sky

The only blue is sky

Riddles left to guesses

The feet are not heavy

Past and future lesses 

Red sunset, yellow rise

Green about to begin

While the world is whooshing 

Saying yes, let it in

Living on the bias

Living on the bias

Without the fabric rail

Like the string on a kite 

That angles to the tail

Not the road less taken

There never was a road

Hansel and Gretel’s crumbs

Not seeds that could be sowed

Across a grand canyon

Across a grand canyon

The river will not rise

In its final sunset

As the waterbed dries

There are answers in voids

The absence of carving

Homecoming to farmland

To thrive and end starving

Permission not granted

Permission not granted

Even with a checkmate

No matter the winning

Self-value will not grate

Rug pulled out from under

Shouts of a sky falling

I know who I am, no

Matter the name calling

A day with finial

A day with finial

The treble clef singing

Blossoms and blooms bursting

Nesting birds upbringing

Clouds still on still waters

Night planes now heading west

Chasing the sunlight while

We slowly turn to rest

Beyond failed momentum

Beyond failed momentum

Magnolias too soon

Dismal expectations 

Not the bright stars but moon

Galileo perplexed

Icarus on the couch

Albatross for dinner

Laughing hyenas grouch

Uninvited sunlight

Uninvited sunlight

On the seat of our chair 

Making great company

Bringing brightness to air

But with this cloud rolling 

Light abruptly parted

No more visits today

The night so uncharted 

A briefness, the landscape

A briefness, the landscape

Became words and then lines

Breathing in the bustle

From highways to the vines

The push of Spring rising

Like hostas in my legs

Sensing new beginnings,

Destinations and eggs

My compassionate heart

My compassionate heart

Left too long on the vine

Overripe and dropping 

Unsuitable for wine

Regrettably lapsing

Tomorrow shows no sign

Of better feelings or

Any hope of incline

A nothing souvenir

A nothing souvenir

Like a worn pair of shoes

As lasting as rainbows 

Deeper than ocean blues

A never forgotten 

A meaning no other

A definition or

An exact twin brother 

Where is divinity

Where is divinity 

Halos are hollow rings

Prayers are merely words

Promises broken wings

Reality ruling

Conquering moments still

Fantasy is fiction

The truth a stronger will

Pure morning is a sketch

Pure morning is a sketch

Spring’s paint brush tip touching

Just as magnolias 

Free themselves from clutching

Prior to profusion

Or late summer bleaching

But in the roots and limbs

Out from nowhere reaching

Feelings pouring like paint

Feelings pouring like paint

Not a color lacking

Their mixing making a

Graduated blacking

But full transparency

By standing in the light

All my feelings mix and

Together they make white

Rhizomes wriggle below

Rhizomes wriggle below

Worse than wild strawberries 

Or the clever clover

Neither design varies

Quiet creepers choking

Boundaries must be set

Like potting bamboo to

Remove the pending threat

Happy without moonlight

Happy without moonlight

Sunny days are aglow

Raindrops falling sparkle

The banished moon, skid-row

Freezing cold in the shade

Or taking the sun’s warmth

Without giving any

Or providing true north

The pages are flying

The pages are flying

Spineless book pages stack

Stalagmites of wood pulp

Tall trees we can’t get back

In the midst of mundane

That clover, a lone oak

An individual 

Appearing like some bloke

The sky does not answer

The sky does not answer

The stars too far to hear

The sun took Icarus

The ground all those too dear

An empty Big Dipper

In the search for greater

But it’s my contentment 

Life as Art curator

Memory oasis

Memory oasis

Have I made this mirage

Covered graffiti with

Watercolor collage

Is it all forgotten 

The full moon a crescent 

Has time distorted time

Chaos calmly pleasant

To turn around and gone

To turn around and gone

Distance already struck

Cowering darkness cloaks

In the forever stuck

Letting go and changing

To imagine then strive

To celebrate and cheer

In this moment alive

Poems are not on the

Poems are not on the

Periodic table

Personal elements

Steady or unstable

They are not DNA

They are glimpses and trace 

And not definitions 

But mere moments of space