march

that was a powerful potion you brewed
i nightly endured fevered dreams of you
cobwebs cleared up
and the dust in my cup turned to juice
you hung from the ceiling
tied up in knots of hair and tree roots
leaves cascading down around you,
the room grew lighter
the ceiling turned blue
and you were a tree freshly planted anew
and i, picking fruit from your
branches to chew,
knew the bounties of spring's
yearly blooming renewal

if you want to leave this place
you have to leave out the back door
i don't agree with the policy
i don't know what the rules are for
if you follow the road by the river
that flows both ways, walking downstream,
you'll find the nest where i buried my chest
caked in pollen and thorns
while the ground is cold and unforgiving
i am living in my cloud cover
but i left a trowel for to dig my treasure
once the winter is finally over

sketches 09-10

some pages from my sketchbook that i started in march 09 and just finished this week

cracks in the door

before, you came in through the cracks in the door at night
and whispered into my ear to make me dream of you
then i tried to stay awake to catch you in the act
but i couldn't see it through

805 soccer/berkeley rose garden (winter version)

ok for bong water