Plain eyes big and open
to match the landscape of earth
reflective like blue icy sheet of sky
timid with sun in the morning,
brown of trees, quiet and gentle that
live, grow, and die in circle organic,
wondering and hungry like creatures
Droplets posed on glass
outlined by car lights
passing streets and signs
sided for my path
speed travel forward
into stale half used
homeland city air
Only night forgets
details unlike these
droplets posed on glass
The sun puts warmth into the half dark room
gracing the wooden chairs and tabletops with light
as I sit glazed with bits of sunset
hidden from the golden clouds and orange sky.
While there are streaks of colors in my eyes
I know how to be thankful for this scene
as my dad always told me to never curse the sun.
Watch patiently as the sunset drains
the powder blue and and thin white clouds
burning it in an amber chamber
behind the lattice-work of trees
leaving in time for the onset of night.
Following the water
through chasing currents
bounding beneath half frozen waterfalls
and pale green mosses
the rocks stand perched at the base of the river
holding the scene in perpetual calm
draped by trees with rounded green leaves
shiny and protected under delicate snow
with branches and trunks crooked and sideways
bent to their choice of placement
whose roots provide intricate ledges
where the icy water plummets step by step
through whites and browns
greens and berries of winter contrast the pure scene
arches of branches
fuzzy moss carpets and crystalline flow downhill
who knows where your steps will take you?
Pencil encased in fingers
Paper to angle of wooden
Scratching the surface by graphite
Marking thoughts processed inside me
And all is gray on snow colors
Maybe it’s more than this idea
It is this time and my freedom
I always forget how a runner’s high goes
One minute pushing to a happier place bodes
A wide awake mind and an elevated soul
A newer perspective on ever stretching ground
That stronger bodies come from being alive
Where is my passion?
Inside, I am sleeping.
Until I press the words into view will I be indecisive.
I have always wondered what my drive in life is:
the one thing I would live for.
I know what that is.
It is to see the beauty of the world.
The smiling, free world.
It is to share that
to create it in words
to weave it together
wrists and arms braiding the words like branches of the weeping willow
scattered with the little flowers on the outside
fingers to poke the words from the clouds floating in my blue sky
running my mind at the speed of the drifting snowflakes
thoughts spontaneous like clear bubbling rivers rolling small pebbles
tangible feelings like wind and warm sun, breathe and embrace it
moving and not moving, the strength of each muscle underground
all form my passion
and I hope it makes you smile
or at least just your heart
If you can,
that you owe me nothing
because all we are
is existing in the same place
at the same time
or so I’ve perceived.
But what I owe you
is the world you know
and the right to be what means you
is something I can give
but you take at your own judgment.
because what’s farther than this world we know?
and I am like you
a small piece
of it all
of it all too great for words.
Calm and clean
the ground becomes
as snow gently wafts downward
Because as the speckles
wander on by
the earth becomes like the sky
between dotted lines
to a sea of red brake lights
and black car silhouettes
against the dark starless sky
one moon placed above
the sparkling cityscape
of scattered lights
and vague shapes
beside the ocean
a lapping abyss
facing a thousand muffled engines
in a frozen rush-hour