The Beginning of Solitary Confinement (Solitary Confinement 1-7)

The solitude of an empty

night, is revisited in the morning,

in the blink of one weary eye,

I awake from the depths of snoring.

Rarely is hope found in a damp

old cell in the heat  of a summer night.

Yet freedom comes to those that are numb,

victory is nigh.

These precious moments armeE ass see s je still a gift

in the midst of exploring….while half awake

while in a dream, while meandering 

in the morning.

Roaming Night (The Son Above The Clouds 2010)

I walk around in circles,

waiting for the dawn to come  while nervous, hungry, lonely, drifting…. 

Conversations with the darkness were void of replies

questions from miles away were on damp and shriveled feet. 

Train tracks occupy broken, blank minds.

I am waiting for the ground to dry 

on marble tile in a waiting room by 

a parking lot filled with talking birds as bread bags fly in the sky.

Dying palm trees play in a band

with the sunrise as a special guest.

Summer Rain (July 6th)

Dawn is the specter that is in tireless pursuit of the brief, 
evading night. Speckles of light peek through the placid grayness
as the damp asphalt serves as a reminder of the norm.

How common is a shrouded sky in the month of July?
How common is a scattered shower in the bosom of summer?  
A morning commute occupied with bewildered strangers,
enroute to work or home is a painted fixture.

The gentle cadence of a drizzle is reminiscent of a somber fall morning. 
Yesterday was a sweltering inferno......
with continuous pauses in traffic serving platters of
nostalgia, void of…..happiness, love and laughter.

The subtle scraping sound of the MAX across train tracks occupy the pauses between each moment of exhalation and Folgers. How common is a shrouded sky in the month of July?
How common is a scattered shower in the bosom of summer?