63,000

photo: Katie Copeland

A passing glance brought me to my odometer

Finding it upon the threshold of sixty-three thousand

There’s something fresh about seeing such a well rounded number.

How can a zero add so much, when really, zero is nothing?

As sixty-two nine-ninety-nine becomes stale with distance,

I found myself watching the panel like a television screen

The four years of dreams, agonies, and ambitions

Tick with each mile gone passed.

Without even heeding the road ahead,

I continued to stare,

For I know this road well.

Roughly forty thousand of these miles

Have committed this path to memory.

Seems a shame to put so many miles on such a small road,

When so many others are left un-traveled.

With no analog tenth-miles to give pace,

The digital display leaves me anxious....

When will it turn, when will I turn?

As the numbers transform instantly before me,

I enjoy the aesthetics and even-ness,

Of the number 63,000

Feels like a new beginning, a new start....

I return my eyes to the road,

Already knowing my position upon it.

I hope the next sixty-three are enough

To get me out of this ten mile town.

Dreaming of a dream

While dreaming of a dream, 

there's violence and hatred at every turn.

Rounding the brutal corners of

everyday life becomes disheartening

when you witness injustice at every level.

As I contemplate the honest life,

teens rain hate, swinging blows from bats

upon the wretched helpless.

While we watch attentively,

the tee-vee digs up more horror

than ever before

feeding the always craving audience

until the bloodlust has been quenched.

"Was it always like this..... when did things get so bad?" we

say, as we sit, not touching that dial, waiting for more.

My broken heart aches for action,

but with little strength leftover from the daily toil,

how can I make a change?

Simmering love

You treat me as a flower fantastic

unfortunately rare in my beauties

becoming one with the sun.

A kiss each and every day

with love simmering upon your eyes

welling deep with truth upon hope.

Each day becomes a struggle

to match your vision of me.

I can do no wrong,

yet, I am what I am.

And that's what I love about you.

GOLDEN RAYS

The slow fade of days last golden rays,

keeps me in golden gleams

cursing off the night sky and its eyes,

I clutch the warmth of life.

A toss-back inside my mind

brings me close to you again.

Misty moments compile for awhile

until the swan sings it's song.

Tragic treasures as the piano plays

they creep alongside my dreams.

The fade hastens around my waist then,

so I rise, with tears in my eyes.

I'll see you again my friend,

in the embrace of golden rays.

Spring Ease

In the shaded rays I lay,

deep beneath the canopies

well amongst the weeds,

I seep discreetly into the soil.

Planting my roots deep upon deep,

ever so sweet is my sleep

between the magnolia and mossy peats.

Bugs and plants and ants dance

across my back,

my hands,

my face,

light itchy tickles follow them

from each place to place.

As I leach slowly,

draining the sour days away

effortlessly  into the limestone streams.

Leaving me at ease

afloat on the light fragrant breeze,

I travel peacefully from dream to dream.

Brown Bugs

Brown bugs live 
lives of crawl 
creeping days 
across the lane 
inside my mind 
they go separate ways 
into the night 
legs of six, seven, eight 
broken bugs 
carry that weight 
however they may bite

Hurting hearts

Hurting hearts beat unevenly out of tune.

The ticking clock tocks out of sync.

Cold iron sheaths impede their speed,

while pulse rates deccelerate

towards molten metal states.

As the blood flow slows,

pulsing throat-beats throb,

climbing the spine like a vine,

drumming the ears, blinding the eyes.

Clumsy lungs stake out air

with shallow regret.

Numbness fades to pain

switching roles easily and again.

A cracking voice aches to break

the silence in half

but broken lips only bleed

at slow uneven speeds.

Retraction of Spring

With spring upon my doorstep,

Warm sunrays fade away to gray.

A chilly display pervedes today.

Flat, lack-lustre, dolldrum clouds

invade the skies above my hometown

sounding a frown with general malaise

I unwillingly retract into old winter days.

THE JOG

The showering cleanse

brings wet friends

to my shirt soaked stride. 

Clouds burst wide-eyed,

loosing all inside,

drenching down upon us below. 

Weak knees depart

at desperate paces,

while I glide

from left to right

and side to side. 

To the skies

I confide my war-cry,

defying sighs who slide away. 

Anchored baggage....

my shirt is strewn in two,

torn....

too heavy to be worn. 

Go, slinking meek,

sneek off

to soak-free stations. 

Long legs increase with speed 

catching each drop on my body,

hoarding the rain

from the pained

wet-wretched ungrateful. 

Floating bones feel the flood

of chilled dropping dew,

ever warming with each jog-step. 

At the peak of the pour,

the sky bleeds dry,

giving way to a starburst of rays.

Firery sunbeams glaze,

igniting a blaze of beauty,

magnificent in perfect precision. 

Wet leaves glow burning green

with the yellow orange hues

to compliment the strong toned blues.  

Accelerating pace inspired by this place,

fills me with grace. 

I weathered the storm with  love and desire

'til sun shone to set my heart afire. 

THIS FLIGHT TONIGHT

I see the red ants, they dance in and out of my lane.

They are shifty sights, plunging left then right.

Cross beams, halogen dreams, burn night's delights.

Dot, dash, the gas, they are coming at me fast....

i cannot react, in fact, i cannot remain intact.

The intrusive death machine, i muffle my scream,

saving my grace for this night flight.

Through glass, through sky, i flip and fly....

savory truth hits me a flash quick trick.

In aerial escape all angles become angels

halos and white wings while heaven sings,

"mind the paths of the heart's yearning burns".

Fatally I land, a mortal man, 

gently releasing my own soul's bonds;

an emacipation better late than never.

Final thoughts caught in a bliss of twist.

Allow this burning heart to beat its last

to take its first steps on a yearning path.