songs within a christmas tree

christmas tree


do you see carved snow shadows

held in dance

cold light

street lamp lit

and the wind songs

of children gone.

when seasons turn

do the ice tears

carry your years

or just your



star night dreams


do you mean

memories carry broken

or whole,

but memories


all the love

found and lost

all the roads


all the faces

wet and dry

all the families

created and torn.


memories of today

are the bells upon

your tree

echoes in rhythm

it is christmas time

and what can you feel,

light a fire

whisper a poem

and hold the winter wind

within your hands

cupping all the dreams

you fear to remember.


remember and see/songs within a christmas tree.





hide and seek/no one speaks

sad eyes

sunless morning skies

earth city woman


silence -

to forget

all the tomorrowís

she has seen


deep in the lines of

her palms -

casting no shadow

she talks

to the high

building walls

who, carry no echoes

washing her face

clean with tears


last time!

who is left in

her mind -

moments in snow

silent drift -

written as poetry

on a rocky irish shore,

skin wrapped

warm -

born to the threads

of a cold sun -

snow heavy limbs

where trees weep

sound deep into

the night -

time dares to break

a woman loves her


lost deep in a


of white man blues -

tears are her pleasure


years are her fear -

where lives on

the magic,

in deep eyes

so sad

where lives on the beauty

the longer echoes

in her silence -

hike and seek,

no one speaks -

but a poet cries

sweet blues

in a mirror of

sad eyes -

a smile of life

in his pain

/and loss -


often are

too often are








I feel

a cold wind

as it blows

the ice of time

across my soul

i try

to sip from

torn lips

what life - who

has drifted so


from me? from rhyme,

I dream of the magic

found deep in the

silent eyes of man

any man

I dare no tears

to water my fears

as my blood


in the moments past


and yesterday is but a


i touch,

but feel only soulless

trees -

a beauty to the eyes


a void in where

the wind may never carve

and a void never dies

is the wind.

but only my sighs

in the cold

a mirror of skies. 









if I walk


a water reflection

of myself -

turning waves

an image

in reality

in rhyme

a woman

whose tears

are sweet

upon my lips -

broken moments



eyes, dark

in sight

darken in


water will

always remember

where a manís


dares to forget

but images may

lie torn

until illusion

becomes reality -


dark eyes

drown in the cold -

the water in a woman


across my thighs.

my sighs

they pause -

across the images

that remind -

water in your body

cradling your soul -


when a man, dares

to remember

he seesÖ 






a christmas free

christmas tears

cold wind

we blow time

through fire

/brick against brick

casting eyes into

the dance of shadow

and warmth

dreams remembers dreams

hanging as dust from

a christmas tree

or a crystal of snow

bright against color in light.

ice garden

in a wind of

shapes carved

with the silence

and the night




a child grown

returns home

dressed in her eyes

returns home

to plant a tree

from an evergreen seed

in a corner of the


to water with her


till home and tree

is she

and christmas in,


free/as light

from her eyes

as water from her






leaves dancing

leaves dancing

where the wind dares

a highway dance

traveling man

riding echoes

and distant places

light in silver

in drying rain

rushing across


and eyes pass.

memories are nothing

as time carries

a thought

what urges

dream on a manís


to ride farther

then his call

walls of ice

clear as glass

shatter almost

moment to moment

leaves dancing


piano man blues

plays a song. 






turn to the seasons

i wish a dream,

i wish a star

for what is,

is what it seems -

cold air carries

a piece of moon -

in light/ a moment

listen to the


Shadow carve

into snow

not yet fallen

calling from the echoes

that remind.

tears rise from

clouds of fear -

for what is close

must be never -

distant eyes try the lie,

but see clearly,

nevertheless -

or emotions carry the


between life and truth and death.

turn to the seasons


spring warms the ice,


winter carves reality.

turn to the seasons


wish for a dream. 






life wanders across where the dark seeds cry,

a child to woman sighs

and a voice from the willows

is rarely heard,

but for the mindless grass.

cold water drops from the hard

and naked breasts,

wet into dreams in the pitch of night,

night only night,

alone is the sight of fingers counting moments

while dreams are locked away into memory

beware of the child grown, she who remembers

more then the question of steps /upon the sand

and less then the rain upon her eyes

sighs in the morning stain. 





can a man, be only a man

when dreams fall

empty like

an open sky -

when a child cries


in a room

where echoes donít carry

can a man


only a man

walking streets

as only streets

do lamp lit shadows

carry his sound -

if money colors a

manís fingers

while a hoe

never crossed his tries

can a man be

only a man -


where do they fall. 





broken rhyme

if water had a thought


would be wrought

by a man

playing his delusions

in the sand -

on a shore

nearby -

if a tree could do

what it pleased,

how would it grow

forever -

from a redwood

on its knees -

with no social stands

left within his hands

his eyes seek magic


drift away from change

is age but

a question of time

or just the lingering


of a broken rhyme 





night wears

tears in the light


drifts across a womanís

skin begin

ever down

name the soul

as a well

nowhere to go

but the whispers

silver, silver

manless dreams


hold tight


night wears

the moon

sunlit and in sight 






on pragmatic revisions

my eyes

watch the life

crossed from a

majestic illusion/

of clouds -

picturing their dreams

in the sky -

riding those silent

winds of distance

they lay in the

lines of my palms -

carving in whispers

my destiny,

on pragmatic revisions

i slide within

reality -

and I find

one of those

rare moments

to listen -

in there,

for there is little

more, where time

crosses into the nature

of a moment. 







in a quiet

dream roam

wind carved skies -

sighs are whispers

warm upon rock

mountains standing

seep into sight.

eyes see,

in a moment that

stays -

coloring a soul -

when a man

knows a woman,

magic in drift

through shadows

carries a name

for something begun

and cares still again.

in the earth trees

lean shadows across river.

as love is love

and breath carries

the morning. 






patterns and whispers

long summer

and saltwater streets

where do the patterns dance

might a blind man ask

longer days

days filled with light

casting shadows

shadow sight

clear into invisibility


empty seas cast the morning


lost to the memories of


where are the patterns

of chance

dance into dance

sweat rolls


crisp sheets

and defeats are wordless

white upon white

cast black by the night

so are the cold dreams


to a wind unseen


and whispers

in the circle name

where time passes time

summer to autumn call






dance in the silence

whisper the moment

whisper the trees

watching the river flow

a woman

she stands still,

hiding her name

in a rain

washing a rock

painted in letters



so lives a

childless mother

free -

to bypass

the passion -

which resides

in the echoes

drifts of time


the near and far

of single

white space

dreams -


dance in the silence

walls built

of winds

legs, naked

beneath long silk

spun free -

in color,

as the seasons

once cried,

a shattered tear

frozen in time

walks never next

year -

a woman,

she stands still

watching the river flow. 





and lace across her eyes

late night songs


right or wrong -

lace across her fingers.

a smile,

a woman sees

the child

sees a woman

calls across

a concrete


drawn to

simple lives

fireplace dreams

flesh sears the

walls -

on a bed fresh

and wet -

a woman whispers,

hungrier yet -

older than a younger man

can see

younger than an older man

dares to seize.

where late night eyes

passes her sighs

an autumn snow

often falls -


the woman can dance


water believes in water

rain believes in rain.


late night songs,

and lace

across her eyes. 





cold sun

cold sun

in a gray sky -

the air thick

with a late autumn

fill -

quieter than the


sings - but echoes

of water unheard -

speak to windows

wide - in a view -

of forever and tomorrow

all so far

away -

noise fills the

edges - words

like ice fractured -

as a wind turns the

earth -

on uneven moments -

no shadows on a wall,


a cold sunís call. 






of christmas soul

walk a song

of christmas soul

whether silence

or dance

wherever you go -

carry no ice

carry no fear

fill your eyes

open -

for what you might

hear -

cut your tree

in jade -

water your dreams

with the blood

of your love -

it is time to

create belief

on a day

born of a mirror

looking in

looking out -

sing a song

of christmas soul -

to catch the light,

alive -

in for a day

in foreverÖ







cut emerald song

in a song

of crystal,

cut to green

cut of earth,

a cold sun

burns deep

the winter


whispers belong

as does

silence -

only the earth

creates -

and only life

is born -

the mirror who

sings -

walks from the

reflection of a manís

soul -

light in refraction

is the gift

of a hand


and whole. 






stone wall blues

cobblestone streets

catch a shadows walk



a womanís soul


black iron street lamps

deep in a

long summer night,

and her eyes

wall the moments

mirrors of silence



the blues -

a season without



your dreams -

magic is on your


running slow

through the wind -

in an age of cold

stone walls

with a heart


for the taste of

magic or art,

how can a woman


when tears

can barely cross her

reason -

has she passed her

shadow by -

a simple man

can play the blues,

turn around and lie


the memory is she -

carved in wind,

and wind,

hears the stone

nevermore -

magic on her fingertips

and the wind

hears stone





just a little bit of,

a little bit of dark

a little bit of light

a little bit of morning

a little bit of fright -

if we could grow pure

could we grow free -

or is all the world

a void walled

closet -

naming walls

across our genes -

a little bit of dreams,

printed upon our breath

is all of life,


a universe


whispering our death -

woman needs a man

a man needs a woman

but a soul

she stands alone -

coloring the canyons

of a world

first, with her eyes. 






still again

a man watches


echoes that wash

as blood

across a past

a man

who thinks himself


from a rage -

against a world

lost if the self -

and living off the

death of children -

their own children -

even white souls

see never the deaths

they keep -

and tomorrow, never

comes -

and the stage turns /and all the easy faces -

see nothing

but their own fear.

a man walks

again on a

road of blood

red stone -

he stops -

bends to the

cold earth -

to find, from

deep within a

crack -

a flower,

as the eyes of

a woman -

dreaming -


a man walks

his rages -

free -

still, again - 





celtic eyes, northern cries

a north irish sea


upon the sand


her eyes

as sighs

in echo


soft flesh

and - hard

and her love

is a name -


whispers across

her cries -

what freedom rises

from -

where flesh aches

sweetly -

her man holds

deeply -


deeply in the silence

told -


who will dare

to stain northern

girls feet -

whose tears


no defeat -

whose years

await a simple


earth rhyme -

a carved door

is so easy to read

and when the rain

comes -

windows dare to

warm her eyes -

and when the cold


try -

who cares to ride

her soul free -


celtic magic,

wood etched -

across tomorrow,

who always lie


a hand sewn


covers swollen

flesh - blood rise

to rigid cries

so warm,

a man calls her

by name -

but what name

carries her magic

in the rain -

window sheet stain


till tomorrow comes,


across a north irish sea. 








black red blood,

drains thought

your soul

long road

through a

blacker night.

Sweet youth

in naked flesh

or is the freedom

not to care -

for death,

or your feel -

so simple,

lies reality

lies real -

till you turn a corner

street -

to greet

life or death,

who is all the rest - 






echoes of earth, echoes of change.

Dying color

changing light

tired man

in the early early night,

a call from the seasons

a whisper in his blood

to rage on the reasons

against an empty street

an autumn rain chills

and his eyes glaze

all the dream distances he ties to fix

seem to drift ever further into the haze

time planet time

what has man done

to your rhyme

when seasons change


how dare a man to

remain the same -

if you drift through

the changing night,

will the color

ever remember


man in the early night

and on an empty street

walks on cold feet

half awake

half asleep

does he see what he means.







Slow dance of light


walks a slow

dance of light

bringing breath

across lips that

have dreamed of

stages far away


in ruins , the silence

down all streets

whispering against

wooden doors -

held softly closed

for where within,


is a carving of

song and shadows

a woman

wanders across time

easier with the

shadows soft

singing songs

both remembered

and found.

Walking shadowless

beyond the sun ,

night is freedom

whispered ,

a womanísí eyes need

never rage

when the stage

is, and not .

and echoes sing memories

soft as silk

held to the wind

for a woman,

never naked

in her lack

of dress

and time always

grows a woman older

till night ,

is but an echo

drifting before the morning

singing , a woman

wakes .

free of shadows







Christmas snow

a quiet morning christmas


as solid shadows

carving sculptures

onto the so still,

living silent life


sweet cold mind


silver trees

and what do you please .

seasons change

in a circlesí range

while still whispers

carry a man forever.

Magic in her eyes

a shadow on a

street corner light

echoes live forever

and winter is deep -

in christmas song

might we belong

before sugar dreams

carry us away...






just another day and MS



an anarchist plays

the line-


the line becomes he,

anarchism becomes


and reality becomes dream.

The dream is in color now

without seams .

a world now becomes

and all the answers he

had hoarded so well

have run.

A man is healthy, till not.

And all the doctors

offer a name to the

game - that exists for

no reason that they can ascertain.

They offer treatment

that doesnít work, maybe.

Itís all about the brain, they exclaim,

dare a man play his own game

of life or health,

on rules he finds across only his hands

and so

doesnít the anarchist

dare to trust himself .

yet he carries the doctor still,

also a realist?, the doctors sign

the disability form

some anarchist !

cries the man into a

mirror, whose cracks may

never be seen .

be it man or disease ,

it is always the man !

so, cries the anarchist.

Just another moment of truth,

as just another day.





MS and I.

I canít dance to the

water wind playing cresting sands

i canít walk hard and free

in speed to leaves light colored


i canít fight the wars of honor

that makes a man a man.


sit on a fence nailed by

an illness - that names

your body in limits and no cure -

should i cry , should i cry

should i rage !

or should i just sigh


cross now against the winds

that cross back on those concrete


i can walk to the

water wind playing cresting songs.

I can dream hard and free

in speed to leaves light colored


shall i be a war of honor

this makes a man a man,

i sit on a fence accepting an

illness, ready to pull at the

nails - until death we depart.

And as i sigh

all the echoes of past and future

merge - into a soul -

that still rages for freedom-


now in a slower quiet stance.






he danced

jumping jack jester

he plays his game

and meets many people

with different names

there are women of dreams

and men of quiet rage

all caught in the


of a working mans stage


jumping jack jester


and danced

he walked with the

stance of those he knew,

till the walls became water

and the children swam free

all in the mirror of

who they could be

for strings can hold no dreams

just the illusion of such, which

appears as seams

yes jumping jack jester


to the songs of beauty and color

and life





the light carries far

water carries and whispers

the moments of life

that are moments in time

carried by a name

freed by a wind

she is a woman


walks the beaches

in the shadows

of a cloudless sky

years never look


years always hide

as carved wood trees

open paths -

to where the unicorns


wind carries a womanís


across snow covered seasons

deep into any night

and hear,

the light carries far -





wood and snow

wood and snow


from where does the

time flow,

do you remember

where the child stands

small and ungrown

do you remember

the hands that reach

for all -

in what pockets do

lie the hands now.

Dream a little dream

sigh a little sigh

whisper to a single star

deep within a black sky

winter tree .

who do you see

child or man

life or just, rest.

Rise to the sky

all your dreams, sweet dreams,





a celtic call

a celtic call


the whispers of life

so, is born

the husband and wife -

morning is light ,

and shadows never fall

where the sea

runs free -

i see you

you see me.




walls of the mind

who am i.

What walls describe

the world i choose to see

are my dreams of paper,

steel or breath -

have i carved an indianís way

into the mirror wind of

a mountains dream - and

have known iím alive

are my dreams of water or,

of concrete .

whispers in the night

past sleep dreams call

to me - who are they

are they me -

sits a woman, her back

against the wind,

can only she hear the stage

of life , listening

stands a woman, ancient in her

rare memories, native to the earth

facing the wind

here her nakedness is her truth .

a child flies or a child cries -

beauty is the moment between


she can ride the water, as she has

been seen,

by the rain -

dare she dream of breath,


paper and steel .

walls of the mind -






iíll walk forever

the hills are a celtic green ,

they roll long and wide

opening earth

into the eternity of the sky

a north atlantic sea rage

is the line of movement

which carves this isle,

mile upon mile,

ancient and free

carved by runes ,

the sea stones carry

a mans dreams never still,

while the long ground

walks with a mans sighs -

the hills are green

these hills i have never seen,


for there deep within your eyes -

and iíll walk forever

to live and die




whisper the water

whisper to the water

of moments marked with time

a simple rhyme

as the sky does cry


ever sigh,

where do i go,

lost from the try.

The earth moves

yet i remain still


so slowly

so slowly back into death

this slow strong rest

and the touch

goes, goes, goes.

A man can only try

lost between the moments

and the sighs -





sweet christmas song

afternoon river song,


and belong

where seasons walk by

as whispers ,

and reasons

are just the moments


have blown in the wind -

and christmas is just a day

where we stand


to mark the change

bloodless families

yet still we stain .

sweet river music

a walking rain .

a soul lights

on the colors of a sunset

mirrored so free -

sweet christmas song

for you and me -





green desert eyes

cold on a desert morning


who carve into a

free soul -

wind draws upon sand

where stands a man

not alone

but sewn,

of all which is sky or earth -

whispers in the water

wandering in the color of blood,

talk of love as life

walk of a woman,

day is as day is born -

green desert eyes

a dusk sun,

a woman who holds the whys

water skin,

to love her in the morning-

green desert eyes