

HideThis is my last garrison— Let it fall. (onto this page) I don’t know why I live this life, Or why I live it the way I do. I don’t know why I find The silence so much better, Or why my words are like fears, Afraid to show their faces And embrace their only natureHide
(to be heard). I don’t know why my soul Can only feel safe in
The prison it has made, Like its own brand of darkness Is so much better than another’s. I don’t know why I must Be my own season And run when time tells me to. I don’t know why I hide, Or why I have to


Storm ThoughtsLightning no longer. Did the magic run away? Clouds never looked so lonely. Blue dream storming, Puddles in the sky. Rain in the circuitry— Flooded brainspeak. Language still holy? Consonants overflooded, Alone bleeds raindrops. Ease me into fiction. Lids drawn by water. The final look— Haikus in the air.Storm Thoughts


SpeakIt never ceases to amaze and slightly craze me; how your voice’s fragile thunder can so change the strange dimensions of sound.Speak
How many angels ride those clarion waves? How many miracles take refuge in
that hallowed tone? The numbers must shame the stars, my love. I didn’t know I could hear the sound of spring breaking upon the April land. I didn’t know that the dawn’s streaming caravan, golden and invincible, could live within a song. I wouldn’t believe the crimson magic in a ros
Tom
Previous PageNext Page