The Other Type Of Feeling

You know that feeling?

The excitement you get when you see someone

And that someone’s a stranger

A stranger creeping up on the ground itself

Cautious and casual as not to disturb the air

And they think they’re not being watched

Yet secretly hoping that they are, because

What they’re creeping towards, they believe

Is gold, mercury, or an ancient artifact

An artifact no one but them has discovered

Or ever will—first—in their own time,

And in that moment you get excited too

Except you get excited for a different reason

And when their discovery turns to a shameful frown of defeat

Your lips turn upward towards the sky

Chuckling to yourself, kind of happy, kind of sad

Yet you understand enough to feel commradery

Wishing that stranger was your friend

Just so you could kick em in the pants

Confirmation(in the form of being)

Tell me his name

And I’ll give him your word

Though to an illusion

I can not confirm—

Within him lies many,

Within you lies more—

His name’s but of flesh and bone.

So tell me your name

And I’ll give you his word

Be it not an illusion,

Something I can confirm.

Rorschach Test

Funny, how a song

sung over the years

can seem, so foreign

even to me, with a chorus

not even I can relate to

any longer than it takes

to finish the mornings

cup of coffee, spilled

to form a Rorschach Test

no longer necessary

to indulge or engage,

just enjoying the view

from a bridge overseas.

Dying in her arms I’m happy

I see my reflection

through the tangles

from the window

of her eye, suppose

she’s figured out the angles

I’ve been playing,

oh but she’s the kind of femme fatale

worth saving, because lately

there’s a wall built higher than my own good

for, protection

oh but how it all comes crumbling down

the instant, she walks in

where dying in her arms I’m happy

Mural, St. Pete

My Goldfinch in flight

Chainlink memory

In the dream state of night

Unshackled reality

Through a window of light

Which pours like rain

And puddles my sight

Until ripples reflect

My Goldfinch in flight

Dive into the sun.

It will be long before
you figure me out,
for I have just begun.

With each days end
that saunters in,
I’ll crave the setting sun.

And by the light
that shines through trees,
in shadows I shall run.

To see and hear
the simple things,
the hummingbird has sung.

So that is where
I’ll stay awhile,
without a word of glee.

Without talk
and without walk,
a dolce harmony.

Where there is no
tell of time,
oh what a sight to see.

And like the spray
of oceans breath,
embrace the mystery.

But if and when
I wander back,
oh what a tale to tell.

For there will be
no better time,
than those that I had fell.

And in the burning
yellow light,
from which I had once run.

It’s there I’ll sing
unto the sea,
and dive into the sun.