Gypsy moon in a time of healing,
when there's nothing
left to heal.

"Put on your boots boys,
and your new suits,
Beau died last night
and they bury him in the morning."

Really makes you think about your life...

Sun spoken wishes
tested sweet on summer lie.
Busted borders,
wasted time.
We all need things,
want things, dream,
and sigh.

She smiles,
(I think of summer rain
and little boy wishes.
The kind Jesus might have a problem with.
But, little boys need
happy dreams too.)
That kind of smile
that makes you want
to hold on all night long.

I went to your costume party.
I even sang my songs.
I wiped your tear,
kissed your cheek,
and I was going to hold you.
But you never learned
a sinners smile,
you never danced with me.
And when I finally thought
you were understanding,
you told me who really
wrote that poem.

Please don't cry.
The night isn't long enough
the way it is,
and I intend to make love,
and there was that
sad poem
about the blue scarf
I still have to write,
and supper for all my children.

Maybe someday I will find a place to dream…

It's hard on a heart
trying to stop
for such beauty.
And the angel
never filled with pride
takes it for granted
when she whispers tears
into the mirror.

She was
Oh! and Ahh!
Sweet lips
and Dang!
I clawed her back
on Tuesdays
before the cancer came.

On a long day
wishing away troubled
dreams and candy,
sitting at the ocean
thinking of you.
Butterscotch rainbows
of what should have been,
could have been,

and...

breathe.

She was a blanket,
but I made her a
good friend of mine.
We'd dream pixie dust
all night long,
and somehow still
make it to school on time.

Maybe someday I will find a place to dream…

Without broken candy dishes
I don't know how far
we would have made it.
There was always one more
apple to be picked,
one more green hill,
and breakfast for my
favorite sinner.

So many little girls I knew
Throughout the years
Would cry and grab me
By the hand.
Before I knew it they had
Guessed my secret name.
But I never kissed them.
I wished the night away
And woke up every
Morning…
Hoping that
One day I might come home with you

How could I know what love
Is with so many filthy whores
Dancing in my hand
And how could I know
You were sitting there
Waiting for your chance
Never knowing, always
Scared that
One day I might come home with you.

You’re a miracle baby,
A knockout.
But beauty is over-rated
In a world of flies.
Run away with me,
I’ll show you there are
Two kinds of monsters.

In search of my El Dorado
I lost the moon
And stared at the sun
With the same scared,
Confused look
A young boy has
While examining the strange
Wet, gooey spunk
From his first wet dream.

The secret epiphany
That we are all sinners.

Maybe someday I will find a place to dream…

Just a little cut to
Ease the pain.
Just a little cut to
Remind you
That I’m serious this time
And I’m in love
And that no one understands
Me…

Shocked in stunned disbelief
That my fallen star
Has fallen so far
And drifted so far from me.

Lust in the morning
And unkempt hair.
You always had such
A colorful way of
Thinking these things
Mean as much to me
As they do to you.
But I shrug it off
With that crisp smile
From the face of
My new mask.

Bright black colors
In a bold life that
Never should have been.
But you would have missed out on all the
Neat things going on
Out there.
Like Cassie catching her
Jacket on fire in Nashville
And the smell of the bed
After we make love.

Such a scary thought
But we used to snicker.
Sorry children spoiled on
Daydreams and lies of love.

Somewhere there was a road
Out there
That would take us where
We dreamed of going
If we could find it.

And maybe someday I will find a place to dream…

[This poem is jumbled up and chaotic on purpose. When we look back over our lives we just see tiny little fragments of scenes out of time and I wanted to portray that.]