I chase the decoys, fleeting and bright,
A world strewn with toys that dazzle the sight.
Deceptions and games weave through the day,
Till nightfall arrives, and truths slip away.


Something falters, a crack in the core,
Nature’s own riddle, unyielding, unsure.
Kindness must bloom where hardness takes root,
Yet chaos persists, sowing endless dispute.

How does it spin, this unending maze?
Life’s like a box where wild weeds blaze.
Courage, a spark, flares fierce in the space,
Confidence cuts with a savage display.

Nothing grows quick, though time doesn't stand still,
A constant pulse with a shifting will.
Scenes rise and fade, their edges blur,
Moments dissolve, yet their echoes stir.

What would the world be, in scarcity or wealth?
Would birds still carve skies in their boundless health?
Their wings sweep the heavens, a distant flight,
Carving their paths through the endless night.

Destiny runs deeper than surfaces show,
Its layers unfold where dimensions grow.
Beyond what we see, beyond what we trace,
A truth hums alive in the vastness of space.

Divisive tides clash, bold riders hone,
Creeping through shadows that cover the globe.
Somedays bring light, others weigh like stone—
What words can answer when meaning’s unknown?

Smoldered black roses line your garden,
but I’d plant myself there—
under terrain, dry and bare—
and wait with a parched tongue
until the ash is done
corroding my lungs
from dawn’s burnt sun.

She was built on shattered dreams,
promises frayed at the seams,
wishing wells where hope waits at the bottom,
until the end of a golden summer greets autumn.

She never wanted the weight
of a thousand knives like freight,
all twisting flesh on her back,
circling around a single track.

Still, she runs her fingers along the rips,
collecting light on her fingertips—
a glow in darkness she will bear,
not to be consumed, but always there.

Stain on my neck
the lips that pecked
in the parking lot
night hot
wore that sweater
one with the feather
image on the chest.

Stomach butterflies in flight
you offered me a light
cigarette between teeth
ignited by our heat
forehead sweat streams
you are now
my cigarette daydream.

The quiet ache in the pit
is not only because I want you
but because a part of me recognizes
that it needs you.

Your eyes will never know me
but mine softly glow for you
as undying emeralds
cut from your light.

where every poem starts
and every ends,
where we are stunned,
where we are thirsty and the thirst is
never quenched,
where there is something that breaks
and i can't bring back although it
burns me to dust, love was not our
miracle but the dying was, the flames
never quenched like the blues of the stars
little rivers,
don't bring me fire to bury me in flame,
bring me oceans of black ink to colour
the night, bring me your love.

the light flutters like ribbons,
the light gold leaf and flickering

amber, the light tenuous in her
gentleness, slumbering with her whims

and her sleep of blue earth, and air,
breath of joy, breath of dust.

night holds us and her daydreams are
a forgotten song, and night is like

the streams of water that awaken with
summer and her cool rivers of air, night with

her paradise far from the gathering
of limb and ledge, far from the leaves

of the dusk where the shadows tremble and the
water turns itself into tears, and we hear the

ghosts cry to the pretty sky,
sometimes we hear the ghosts cry.

They called her triple scoop at school cuz she was kind of plump
she was made of ice cream, so all day long she ran and ran and ran  
Sliding in and out of freezers  just to gather herself up in a clump
They called her "Dairy Queen Of Junior High" she never got a tan

Flavored in three Neapolitan colors she came, now that is insane !
She dolloped to wallop, d turning away from the sun, run Queenie run
Oh how sweet but how melty she dripped each time it began to rain
The only thought through her head was, " I might as well be a nun !"

Then one day she met Mr. Freezer, who lived in an Igloo by the Artic
come live with me & we will make snowballs all day and play ...
It was best to live in the cold, for that was her honest prognostic !
together they thrived and felt good in that place called, " Snowsway"