Antique Freak

Whimsy 

Sprinkles of glow 

Half cloths 

Half Truths

Dark demon in denim 

Run out of the room 

Run 

There isn’t a place to go that you aren’t already there

Walking in a room 

Heads turn 

Wondering

Festival eyes for the moment of season

When the melting begins of history 

Performance Pageantry 

Rough edges 

Sand paper skin 

You trusted the wrong horse mouth 

Snot head

Have my rags 

Wear my shirts ripped

Torn 

Frequency with a voice on it saying weird things at midnight 

Have you been to the end

Butterfly 

Daydream willow baskets filled with wild flowers 

Yarrow hitchhikers 

Van life dropouts 

Train ho 

Delivering old boxes with recycled news 

Transcend the arc of predictability 

We are never one thing 

But some more things in a world of things consuming things 

Red

Extreme 

Dead

Begin the moment of fresh paradox 

New hats and old shoes

Dirts stairs 

A collection of blues LPS the old guy plays 

Listen

Speak only in your head with the circus freaks 

Roll off the high point 

To the ground 

Inhale soil eating seeds 

Cracked up 

Sin

Name

Seven 

How many sevens 

Push 

Move through some average thing 

Push 

Encompass a whereabouts you need 

To the sea 

Songs 

Wish for a longer moment 

Out somewhere not here 

Or here by the sweet garden she plants 

Every year 

A fortunate one speaks something

True in the ether of other truths 

Develop there 

Live there 

The loving magic of your innocence 

Soft 

We become what our youngers felt

Is there a lounge to express such things 

In the lines 

In the pines 

In the dust 

You’re a must 

Megaphone Altamonte

Child years 

Local bully I had to deal with 

New friends for trauma 

Yes 

When we grapple with ourselves 

Tell ourselves 

What’s new 

Below 

Carisma culture ethic 

Xavier name 

Child I’ll never have 

Xavier River 

Row 

Exchange positions on a barter 

North to south

Charter 

We end those narratives that dismiss 

A further ahead 

One two three 

Done 

Relay play 

Karma 

Sunshine 

No thrills after buttons get pushed 

Push

Until alignment softens the core 

Her bleached curly hair and glasses 

Fire 

Just enough to think 

Outside what others assume you need 

Draw a new outline

In colors created by hand 

Painted sand 

Dye 

The last thing said 

Behind a small white veil 

Collide 

Claws

Past 

Some nights you are a zero 

Others 

Alive in doubt 

Reflections in judgement 

Me 

Them

All ghosts live and die in the mind

Rivers my feet soak in 

Faces that want my face 

After one day I’m sheltered 

Norms 

From accepting love 

In shadows a whisper song 

In shadows 

To live in a singular fraction 

Seconds 

Ageless 

All nighters age me 

Switch 

Shuffle images for congruency 

Abhorrent sinister child’s play 

Tortured 

Quickly move through the paper tiger 

Baby cub 

No teeth 

No claws 

Perils of pearl necks on standby 

I’m your vampire 

Psychic before you speak non truths 

Deliver madness to my moon 

Which path is the path 

It hurts when words hurt

Scars shape stars of the sky

New stillness 

Wild make believe 

Systems circulating the possible 

Hands together 

Incense wood 

Fire thief of the night 

Watch for a light that slightly flickers 

Zoom

Exit to begin the camera 

Saw the thing that kills the thing 

Stood up 

Danced the hill

Said so long to a short pilgrimage 

Rested hearts in bone broth 

Chopped spice 

Picked fights in the wind with invisible 

Beings that chase me 

Sat over a cliff and saw 

All 

Roads which lead to and from this moment 

Serve history 

Serve 

City jungle lion 

Tribe 

Mountain method

Nature is free friend 

Let’s be silent 

One last rhythm down a long river 

Cool 

To The Water And Back To Everywhere Else We Must Go

Imagine 

The images that came through are real

For you

Us

Them in another plain or

Avenue

Setting free unification 

Vibrancy of will 

Digress devolutions

Because we can

Manifest illusions 

For someone else’s journey 

Transference pilgrims of the third eye

Silent breathers 

Fire actually 

Sensory Malice 

You can smell the sound and mannerisms in their doubt 

Of us

Pick up your bag and place it by mine

Ride through thorns of language 

Clap for the box you created that is now a box and only a box

Festival of seasons show the simple need to be seen or accepted

Clubs that have no vacancy 

Lead them too 

Forrest puzzle with a twist 

Maze Tattoo Face 

We’ve begun our summit 

There is no peak 

Answer was below and you walked by it 

Answer in each day 

Movement micro

Corn husk sizzling joiner 

Eyes

The Watcher

Fabrics lounging over doors and on beds

Lay with me 

Become a blossoming escape of your former self that exploded intentionally to hold the pieces 

Share

Spray paint them 

Glue them in the city and in shelters off the primitive camps of Appalachia

Turn lights on after dark to see the truth

Turn them off again to be in the dark 

Swirling switchback to view an old church where they confessed their love

Bugs 

Sand Grass Sky Letters

Round

Corners a clear look

Too beyond the sky words

Cloud letters

All things left unsaid 

Until its still 

Again 

Fearless wandered of mind

Sound

Wish wisdom fortune 

Your letter 

On the shelf 

So many colors of an alternative face

You walked by me two years later or more

I saw you and said hello

You gave me your number

The rhythms 

Patterns of expressing hope for it again

Not serious 

Loose 

Deeper than a sour stasis 

For another time we were lions and owls and sand grass 

Blowing in the wind for another 

I remember the songs

Songs

Played you before the vanishes

An inspiration in new skin

Within 

Flowing waters in a small tin cup of nothing

Rust

However fragmented a joy for real 

Depth on a current you can hold 

Slumber summer

On the road until the road twists the story 

We are all home now

Smoke signal from the future word of new 

How shall we jump from this point to that point

Free Will

Free Form

Free

There’s a small light down the alley where they stay

Blinks and strobes until morning 

Oil from the city 

Cars 

Empty 

Ponds of color in the fields beneath the frogging time 

We