that time of day again

it's going to be that time of day soon

when the trucks steal the sun

from over the bridge

they'll come with their trailers

and haul the sun away

to a dark place

there, scientists

will strap the sun to a chair

and demand the secrets of the world

unsatisfied with the pure silence of white light,

the head scientist

will light a stick of dynamite

and invent radioactive fireworks

and I will stand here on the boardwalk

looking up at an empty sky

trying to fill the dark void in my eyes

asking of the other stars

oh where, oh where

did my pretty little sun go?

something has got to give

Something has got to give

one of these nights

I will awaken

to a greater truth

I will mirror nature's logic

under the Stars, the Sun,

the Trees, the Clouds,

People and their Pets

Animals and their Traps,

We all are as One

to everyone

To Everyone:

my soul is on fire

my heart is open

pulling to a new place

that's wrapping around you

and expanding within me

my emotional taproots

reaching in each direction

tingling with raw energy

as my reality is embedded into yours

and we are growing upwards now

how long has it been?

how many light years have gone by

since you stepped so easily inside of me

with your smile, a key to every door?

oh tell me, love, aren't we all the dreamer,

conspiring to weave a bed of love from our conceptions

so we may free-fall for eternity, and awaken now,

to the joyful roll of velvet laughter music?

traipsing wildly through skipping avenues,

lurking in the shadows of the Sun,

basking, glowing, and emerging

as children of life's rainbow

(written upon return from Hawai'i, March 2010)

summer in montreal

pretty girls walk by wearing their flats

owing nothing to the days of high heeled torture

summer dresses moving freely in the warm air

all debts to Aphrodite having been paid off

in the creation of their lips

I sit and watch the flux of beauty all around me

I rise to join the fray

although the air may not be all that clean

there's still nothing like a summer in the city

July 2, 2010, Montreal

raindrops cover the porch
soaking the planks
one by one
and all together

my friends go fishing
they catch crawfish
and throw them on a hook
for hungry submerged vertebrates

they let them eat it
reel it in
and let them go again

this is called fishing for sport
not going hungry
they just want to have some fun

to feel the tug of life
on the other end of the line
to feel the pressure of survival
on the spinner of life and death

and throw the fish back in again
leaving just a little piercing
a scar from a game we played
together in the rain

straight to the point

today I have no time
to write a pretty line or two
so I'll just make this quick
throw off your chains
thrown down your things
they'll tell you that you're sick
but don't believe the lies
remember it is love not money
that is the tie that binds