Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

Glass Door

A frozen bubble, that's all I can think to describe it.

As I walk around, I let my fingers glide over its smooth surface.

Looking through, I can see a warmth, but just enough that I know im also seeing through the structure.

Its tall, so that as I let my mind wander, my hands travel up and travel down, walking and playing towards its end.

But its a circle, so it has none, until my fingers flinch and withdraw

My blood illuminating a small indent, flowing, thinning into spirals and sanguine highlights

The door is before me, calmly pulsing with my blood outline.

“So” I say to the door “You're a hungry one”

It must have heard, or maybe it was ready to open. I don't know, but it did.

Within, the glass, was a rainbow sun. Rippling with spiking shards of fractured screaming geometry.

The tiny, sharp star, was aglow of anguish made tempered glass Erupting and falling into itself like prism

Like a focus and a distraction A god of intricate deadly planning

I had opened its door, scared I opened my eyes

The words hung in my ears as close as my thudding heartbeats

“I'm starving”

#poetry #doors

Even when the night was clear the clouds hung just on edge as if waiting for the starlight to lose humility, just enough and give them allowance to this a most special night.

But so far so well.

The moonlight was shining The starlight was glamouring The winter chill had finally dimmed

A quiet, hush flung itself across the chilled lake.

As, the smallest of creatures began Like sparks from waxing of a candle flame Made their ways From the inside places, cold places, of the oldness of the world.

Shyly at first they bleed out onto the lake Then more, they grew, finally confident in their steps.

The flowed onto the lake, taking their places.

So began a dance, that no one saw underneath the winter solstice moon.

#poem #poetry

Even though the world becomes a repetition the same trees, the same gravel the same, same, same electric lines that seem to stretch into infinity

its enough, to sit on this steel bridge feel the rust, scrape into the insides of my fingernails.

The river, bubbling, the drunken way this river always spoke endlessly to no one, in particular

I sigh, because its my best response

Watching the purple sky, slowly turn blue The air slightly warm

Even though today feels so much like yesterday

Todays, the day ill run

#poem #poetry

The poltergeist likes waffles It's why each day. Our flours gone The milk and sugar thrown.

I've never seen a hunger quite so overdrawn.

But still I like the company so each day I try again even with the egg prices beating me more than them

The syrup that stains on our ceiling is a map of daily delights a sticky memory of its pleasure charting the poltergeist's blight

So today we start a new day and waffles it will be or else the meat loaf later will be all over the screens

#poem #poetry #fun

A trill of air splits bark, ice shards cling, then. nothing.

Wind gnaws at the brown leaves brittle bones, to cut its teeth.

A twitch. Thaw sweats from stone.

The breeze sharp as a sparrow’s laugh.

Grows fangs of clover, chews through winter’s final grasping breathes.

#poem #poetry

Keep to yourself while the world becomes a breeze To fill your sails To fill your needs That's the joke Your part of the breeze too That wants to move Free as any spirit choosing what it is thats makes you ethereal

realities left to shape when the piano keys press down music flowing out it's worlds end with sheet music burning tears falling music has to be played lives have to be lived

Even if no one is listening

#poem #poetry

Chocolate found my tongue From the ancient fingers of my grandmother. She never cared that I ate dinner Or that I'd missed naps Children to her were to be spoiled A rule hard to forget That now forty years since I can still remember being by her bed Listening to her final breaths

#poem #poetry

Simple tasks are a joy That I struggle to repeat Because it's not enough Simple isn't easy

#poem #poetry

Ive seen magic In making others laugh at funerals In singing through a thunderstorm In finding old photos and sharing I've seen magic That is so common You can't tell me bubbles don't carry wishes to another world.

#poem #poetry

I'm what remains when I forgave myself.

But

The splinters of my father's thoughts. His memory, his methods, Are a spike, rooted deep Like a cursed pole Sending my compass To false north.

But I'm his legacy That has to grow above That has to a accept and forgive That has to go beyond.

This is my problem, That isn't my problem.

I hate him and I see myself In my memories of him.

Growing and accepting. Whatever it takes to grow. Whatever I can do. I have to.

#poem #poetry