She dresses herself and complains Her socks don’t match the ones She wants are in the wash but these will do today

She kisses me goodbye at school briefer every day i tell Her i’m late and wave absentmindedly

She tells me when i pick Her up “look what I made today” i tell Her that it’s beautiful but later throw it away

She wants to play when we get home i’m pretty busy though i have a lot of work to do and still haven’t washed those socks

She wants to read a book with me before going to bed i read too fast and think of something i forgot today

She sleeps and i remember what it was that slipped my busy mind i forgot to be the father that i had expected to be

She wakes me in the morning wanting breakfast something She can put sugar on if you don’t mind

i don’t mind

It never had occured to me

The way it has to be

is never never only what it should be

Some this some that some other

kid forgets his mother

then take the wasted lives of one another

It never seemed I never saw

true light shine out and on and all

the things that come up/down before the fall

The growth the life before the rise

But once I looked into those eyes

Not knowing what could crawl out of the skies

Peaks first then ebbs it shrinks and grows

Aroma smelled not with the nose

A thorn has fallen from life’s withered rose

Once dust once ash a Phoenix came

from out of pointed angry blame

And nothing else has ever done the same

Over up and once thought dead

A voice that rang in angels’ heads

Now sings a song of loneliness instead

Not gone not here not anywhere

A madnes permeates the air

Strips all and one and thing completely bare

And spoken with a raspy breath

While looking down upon the earth

“All the meek inherit now is death.”

patience the ellusive virtue a foggy, distant shape eludes and dances crazily while it makes me wait

funny how the focus shifts from never to maybe and then something bumps the lens and moves it back to never again

and then of course there are the moments

not quite in focus yet intensely bright and wishful. a strange mixture of fact, emotion and dream.

projecting themselves into the uneven crevices formed between past and now shielded by those weathered things overgrown and protective

and confused

i often (seldom) consider that these moments might neither become more focused nor clear forever by one more sunday morning on the porch

I met a man who had traveled far. “Show me a place where I’ll find love.”, I said It was a long journey We walked for many days We came to a beautiful white place. He said, “This is where you wished to go.” I asked if he was coming too He answered, “No, I’ve been here before.” And sadly walked on.

As Never walked along with me we talked of many things of wishes dreams and how it seems that Sometimes never sings

when Always passed she wouldn’t say what road she’d been upon so (joined by wistful Yesterday) the three of us walked on

the lighthouse keeps moving! (is it supposed to do that?) what with all these rocks around and everything. And no sign of the fog lifting.

it whispers and whorls beneath the senseless grinning. the little unseen urging and never spoken thing. it hints of things of wonder and wishing oft and quietly. but the tongue that could speak and make real these things becomes tangled by the pervasive fear of you. and all that is wondered and wished for remains a deeply vicious longing. and becomes and is nothing.

All you disgusting people who settle for less than dreams Shame! Look up from that crowded trough and spit the tasteless soup of boredom and cages onto the beaten ground of what’s expected of you. Walk (crawl if you must) out from that vile herd of mediocrity and nay-sayers who would keep from you what you wish for. If you follow yourself Who leads but the dreamer?

the nothing is missing the answer used so often is nowhere to be found

the never is gone no longer following when and before the sigh

the mine is lost replaced it seems by our and not even missed