Insomniac's Woe
I sit and stare through walls of life, warmth and hospitality
I sit and stare into the dark night that swallows these walls
I sit and stare thinking not of the night, nor of the bitter cold
I sit and stare watching my life on the stage of my mind
I laugh at the jokes
I cry with the sorrows
I long for the moment
When peace can come
I sit and I stare waiting always waiting
I sit and I stare knowing never knowing
I sit and I stare weeping insides weeping
I sit and I stare failing to show my care
The Storyteller
I write stories
I weave tales
from the threads of
my life
your life
our lives together
apart
I twist the threads into yarn
to be tosseled this way and that
entangled with itself and others
until the many are one
and the one is shaped
recognizable
and clear
filled with hidden lies
Adaptations of the truth
Adaptations of the way things
are
were
will be
As ever changing
and clearly defined as
this storyteller's life
A Single Snowflake
As the snow gently falls beyond my window
My eyes gaze out through the frosty glass
And watch a single piece of icy fluff
On its journey toward the earth below
I would watch every flake
But my eyes do not possess that power
They remain focused on one
The one that fell from the heavens for me to see
German Mutterings
Ja, ich könnte auf Deutsch schreiben.
Ich glaube, dass ich gut bin, aber ich wüsste das wirklich nicht.
Hier und da wird man etwas auf Deutsch finden.
Jetzt kennst du das.
Morgen
Mit jeden Tag
Dass vor mir geht
Bin ich ein Jahr älter
Wie ich war.
For Gretchen
I will smile and laugh
For her sake
I will write this
But I doubt this will bring
A smile to her face
Or welcome joy back to my heart
Breaking Free
A ring of clutter traps me
Surrounds me and keeps me at these keys
Holds me to these thoughts
Mocks me with its presence
Gazes up in defiance
And I sit staring
through a screen
through time
through my life
Looking for something
Sometime when I knew
That I could break free
From the ring of clutter
Clockwise
Silently, my clock passes time.
I likewise watch life move before my blinking face.
The Bottle
Is an empty bottle truely empty?
Can it then be filled again?
Why is my heart any different from that empty bottle?
Can I remove the cap and let love back in?
Will I?
Half
A slow harmony
Played alone
Without a melody
And through its chords
Fall tears
Fickle Life
Scrawled in snow
He left a message
The wind blew
The message was gone
The End of Twilight
The sun is setting here in Houghton
It may not rise again tomorrow
But I know that some day -- when the time is right
It shall pierce the dark gray clouds
That blanket my life and my world.
