maybe if i keep writing

eventually the answers will
fall out from this one may
irradiate my heart 
once and for all I sink
into the art
to living a life
some of the folks down
here things have turned 
however they do, they did
going back isn't an option
on the future is always a gamble
with hearts, the house holds
the secret we all know
time runs out and you'll never
waiting is suffering;

every single day undistracted or unplanned

there is no plan

for which ending

or is it a beginning

you must understand that they

two pieces of the same 

get close enough and every circle

a straight line between then

now I lost my way

and a new light rising on a new 

line of sight vanishing 

in a pinpoint of clarity

clarifying only that there is nothing

solid in the core of anybody

but the earth made us

returning to it sooner than ever

hoping for a reprieve that never

mind the darkest bits and 

what shines in the distance never

dullest thud of wind

knocked from my sails and drifting

a languid surface hanging lifeless air

and under the sea you know

a world beyond imagining

is all we got to get 

past a point where letting go

seems possible if only

strength comes from the 

moments that you remember after 

everything still makes me 

it's a kind of happiness

like for someone else

that was you, is that possible

more than you ever dreamed

a domain of fear

the darkened eyelids hinting at 

an inner life twisted and 

i've never been good at tying knots

are they scars on those trees

mending in acquiescence to forces

you only see them in relief

a shadow of past 

the wind howled this way

so i bent down and let the shore

drifting down a river whose

terminus 

this isn't the end of of the line

maybe nothing more than a junction

one of so many little dots on this

could you chart your life

what story do you tell of 

is the articulation accurate and enough

to sustain you toward the next

the map point yet filled 

you've gone over the edge of the paper

it doesn't matter

the walls filled with memories

writing on any available surface

to catch the water as it pours out of the base

a sieve leaking and making a mess

better than bursting

you can't stick the balloon back together

it's best to ride the current higher and higher

hope is at best

we drift gently toward

some warm field, green and sweetly

humid rustling on a quiet save

the bees buzzing about

this business of 

biology won't be bettered

there's nothing to overcome

with me and we'll 

walking together for while

the sun sets eventually

to rise again

and whose hand then

are you holding?