Smoke on the windowsill
Dust and ash clinging to bare feet
Cigarettes numb the air
Sighing each other to sleep in synchronization
Breathe slow

Half-sipped cups and sticky residue
Strewn playing cards collapsed on the carpet
Crumbs and remnants of socialization
Empty chairs
Silent atmosphere

Eyes open in a sleeping room
Anxiety pooling in jittery feet
Twice heavy breathing in tandem
Syncopated with a third dissonant exhalation
Closed blinds

Concept: 32º heat with friends in the green grass. I am looking at you and you at me, i don't know where we stand anymore. You move from your 10 foot distance to kiss my head and rest yours in my lap. The turbulent sea inside me calms with relief.

Concept: my body is made of gasoline. You're my spark my spark my spark. I am aflame and it feels so good to burn.

Concept: inside my ribcage there is a tree growing. I am blossoming and every drop of blood is nourishment to my inner oak. She keeps me steady and she doesn't bloom all year round but when she does, its beautiful. Im healing, I'm healing.

Arms of magma
Grabbing hold of my ice
So I'm no longer cold
I'm getting warm almost instantly
From all the pressure I have
I'm so used to this that I think I can handle anything now
The lone wolf has been saved
My name will he engraved
Into the fear of man and it's foes
I will not easily portray my woes
I stand tall with just my toes
I don't need a stool
Don't take me as a fool
I learn rather quickly
Just like my draw

Concept: the scars on my legs are fading. The past is behind me and I can finally breathe.

Concept: i live in an undiscovered forest and I co-exist. The trees, the wind, and the animals love me. I never feel alone.

Concept: people come and go, their presence is a fond memory and their absence is not sharp and raw. We all have our paths.

Concept: I am a hermit crab leaving its shell for the first time. The ocean is vast and I am unafraid.

The process of creation
Instant in a flash of light through the spoken Word
Or fertilized in the womb
Or sprouting underground
Maybe born of the heavens long ago
Before earth and sun
Born of the stars, exploding into the universe
Or within the volcano
Deep inside the earths core
Born of the waters, the streams and waterfalls
The rich colors of the untouched forest
Initiated in the sounds of night, birdcalls and the occasional howl in moonlight
Sons and daughters of thousand year old oak trees, acorns falling, scattering
Conceived in the deepest and darkest oceans, unaware and uncaring about the mythical surface world
Carried upon by the wind accross the world, currents and pathways charted by the birds and the monarchs
Dandelion child