Feeding Dreams

Let the past no longer hurt,
Find the future you deserve;
Time will slow, Time will curve,
Excavate your universe.

Feeding dreams where water fills
Cactii on soul windowsills;
Their fame to take, then to kill,
Turning chervil into dill.

Propel a ferry, heads are down,
Underwater rusted crown;
Now the orb’s entrusted too,
Solo shoot into the new.

Ode To My Son

Do not count our losses
Like loose blue beads that save;
Though bruisewort and wild mosses
Overwrought my daily grave,
In your deeds I only see
Hope devoid of hegemony,
And how a heart embosses.

Those fathers who fulfil their duty
Know the mark of every day;
Self-assured, and inner beauty,
You are both the prayer and way.
In your deeds I only see
That I made you and you made me,
Undismayed by aged mutiny.

If I revived myself to life undone,
Though they recant such powers,
I’d expunge the knife and shun,
Take rain from May-time showers.
In your future we will find
Solutions for my weaker mind;
Happy Father’s Day, my son.