Today it rained and Nina didn't want to be home
She said she is old enough to face the dawn
You said she is a mood
I said lets get wet in dreamfall.

Spring cleaning

I cannot write about writing letters
I can only promise the letters would etch troubled seasons
Spring had its uprising and them their partings
We simply count till it turns zero.


I never quite liked changes, I resisted questions
It could be Juice Newton and just Belafonte
It could be the tremulous strings of my guitar and your trembling voice
It had to be us in any form, classical or otherwise.

Erie Canal

I have been blinded by clouds
I have been meaning to run across countries
I have taken a shouldered walk along erie canal
And I wished I would see you slowly diffuse in the woods.


I'm excited about waking onto tomorrows
Through columbines and whistled leaves
Children do not run here, chatters do.
I hear them chirp
Tucking you into my morning pillows
Nodding to all your preens.


It is as if you are in the next room
It is as if you are not in your nightwear
But draped in blue sweater and high heels
It is as if you chuckle when we drop void
It is when you are just by the window
And I fail to tap the glass
It is as if I'm running to stand still by your house
And your house lies several raindrops away.
It is when I write, I communicate most
Than I ever could in senses and structures.


Corridors find furtive faces
Evading footsteps as I turn around
Then be the silent victim
This time a needy one.