Okay, it's been years...I had little to say

Again the ache wakes me too early
To have just five more minutes
Serial-like morning as in again
Again
It was too much to sleep through
So if that is what is afforded to me,
The lock down of these hands
To an agreement
Hills barren,
Stripped of furs
Only small patches of thorn bush

Strike the bells
As to remind us of this spell
It can break,
Even still there is always an antidote

Seven years ago today he woke up blind. A few months and several doctors later he moved, with the help of his brother, to this dank apartment building designated for people with his needs. The mornings were the most difficult. He would always forget the he could not longer see. Today he sat up in bed; eyes closed, wondered for the first time where he was, what this room looked like, and then why these thoughts had not occurred to him before. The room was a mystery to him, like every place was now. What color was the carpet? What could you see from the window?
The walls are patchy. Missing paint exposing a gray-cement like white that cuts broken eggshell shadows. Light breaking through a small space between the drawn curtains and land angled across the bed and the spots on the floor create abstract patterns, muddy colors pinned down under footsteps, ground in permanently.
A painting of begonias in a glass vase hangs quietly above the headboard, the somber colors and bowed appearance complement the heavy air, it too, like this room, has aged with time and season, lost its renitence, given into complacence. He inhales the culmination of hundreds of past occupants, a bouquet of unsavory and nauseating odors that wet the eyes and alienate the nose. Every few minutes he hears the sound of a passing subway through the walls. Does dust shake its dormant state and flows slowly through the stagnant air? He knew there is an armchair in the corner of the room; is its seat shallow, the upholstery pooling in a loose puddle of fabric at its center? Are there places that are worn through exposing woolen threads and a foam lining that crumbles in the hand? Next to the chair is a small table with a lamp perhaps. Does is have a cream color shade? Maybe a green geenie with silver painted tassels reclines or maybe there is one of those homemade ashtrays that have the name Jim Carter 6th grade carved into its bottom.
He touches the bedspread. It has a layer of film over it. Is it striped green and brown or is it covered with tiny yellow flowers; maybe it’s plain. The nightstand holds a clock, is it flashing annoyingly? Compelled, he rises, arms outstretched, feeling for the wall. He turns his face toward the ceiling, are their rust colored stains on it or larger places where the plaster is altogether missing? Are the wooden slats exposed, half rotting running lengthwise? He imagines the paint around the holes pealing in big chunks and hanging in triangular sections. He begins to move his hands over the wall. He touches everything in the room. He gets down on the floor, crawls on his hands and knees, grazes over each fiber. He moves to the window, which he has never even opened before. He unlatches and with some effort opens it. He holds his hands out, feels the weight of the air. He stands there for some time. The corners of his mouth break their seven year silence and arch back into two crescent moons. Their dormant muscles awaken from atrophy. He is surprised to feel pleased. He knows tomorrow he will still be blind, but now he knows, he can still see.

Shale stones
One upon another
Trees torn in half
A storm roll through here last night
Superior water rose
Spitting liquid fire
Earth moved
Spilling dirt and rock
On the bleached sands
The turbulence blues rocking fiercely
Rises up to meet the newly exposed bones
There is the sand earth and water speak
Natural tough
Water slides around rock
Rock shifts
A watery dance in sues
To a repeating cadence
Dipping and swaying
Twirling
Pulsating
Bobbing
They are breathless now
And before anyone notices
The water recedes
The rocks rest
All traces
In the sand washed away

out there it is dark and lonely
but I have been there before
Spent hours in darkness
Eyes shut tight
Mind holed and knotted
Arms tense
Toes curled
Heart
Heavy
Out there it is cold and hard
But I have been there before
Clasping hands
Rubbing them together
Creating warmth
Finding shelter
Lifting stones and boards
And Out there is the air
And life
I have inhaled it
tasted of earths brown skin
I have seen birth and death
It is yours and mine
Beyond the lash
Over hills
Through woods
A river bends
A small bird sits on a branch above looking down
At her reflection
Silently
What is it that she sees?
Rushing by
Her image distorting
She doesn’t recognize her face
Fractions of color split
As she flaps her wings
The clear water absorbing the moment as she disappears in to the endless
sky

I see so much more now
How you loved me and
Why
I feel something strange
I feel a small space
Growing between us
Did you forget?
Or just remember
That space feels good
Space is clear and
Open
there can be beautiful moments
When you look through the space and see things out there
Like a tree in the yard
You can see it only because there is distance between you an it
Space is good
You can move things around
You can move around
It an be a large space or small
Space can be in your mind
And not at all
Space
Space
Space
Space
Space
Space is……..
Space is……
Space is
Space

Still your breath
it
is
tight
constricted
your let your words sail across the sky
now they are lost to you
the words move though everything
you are sad that you said them
you cry out to get them back
but the words can't change their minds
they are just what they say they are

Click To Play

night is lying against the day
day is ok with this
they don't fight
just move together
like friends
they can not be lovers
they must maintain a bit of space
they can not tangle
they can only meet at that place
where borderlines
are
a
horizon

it is beautiful
it is a fire
like that of a five alarm
it is an icy slope
a dark tunnel
a light at the end
my rock
my chain
you are so you
and you can't change that
you are as hard as concrete
thick blocked glass
solid steal
you are
magic
angry
honest
hurtful
hopeful
my lover
my friend
i take back from you only one thing
everything else you can keep