random dream

i cup my hands in to your words and drink of them
the sentiments refreshing my parched soul

I have swam in your thoughts
and delighted myself in the cool waters of your being

my random day

silently i tread in a garden i know well
the wind blew by as my thoughts raced around in my mind
the fog beginning to thicken
then a strange thing happened...

i played a game of tag with a bird (i think i lost)
i strode into the gardens as i always do
keeping to the path and then for no real reason
i decided to cut across the open area of grass
this little bird flying close to the ground buzzed right in front of me
i stopped and smiled and thought no more of it
then as i started to move
it came around again
"so you want to play... little bird"
i then proceed to watch him as i made my way across the field
as i walked it circled me with every step it closed its loop
then broke off just as i came with-in 6 inches or so
I followed him and here he came again
i tried to anticipate where it was headed to get closer
circling each other, feinting this way and that
we played for about 5 minutes

i must of looked like a crazy person to anyone watching from far off
zig-zaging on the green with no apparent rhyme or reason

as i finally made my way off the grass and toward my destination
it flew off (i think to boast of a game that it had won)

i walked off the green to one of my favorite views of the city
for some reading and a sip of my coffee

i love this city...

excerpt from a sister's view - c skuza

While our most recent memories are sad, our life was full of joyful moments and togetherness. He and my brother Efra had a very special bond, when they were children they were roommates. When they were adults they worked together, and they were together almost till the end. During his lasts days Rafa asked for Efra continuously and every time Efra came to the room, Rafas face would light up and they would hold hands as if drawing strength from each other, one to be strong enough to leave, the other one to be strong enough to stay.

-c skuza

Tears still sting my eyes... gracias tia

must we all go? v2

he will envoke a prayer and wrap it in a tear
as a wife sleeps as best she can
he will trust in us
i will...

he is aging before my eyes
growing tired as he speaks
he will know us
i will...

a father lies as the son sits by his side
the thread of conversation jumping back upon itself
he will remember
i will...

the drugs so strong, they dull all
a daughter will help him drink
he will ask more of all of us
i will...

i strain my mind shut my eyes tight against world
focus all that is in me
i will...

i will
pray,
cry,
laugh,
remember,
dream,
and watch you pass.

knowledge of you is all i seek

little miss,
where will you go?
little miss,
will you see it all?
little miss,
paint me your world

little miss,
what do you do?
little miss,
will it be enough?
little miss,
sing me a song and let me hear of your life

little miss,
what inspires you?
little miss,
will it sustain you?
little miss,
put pen to paper and let your words surround me

knowledge of you is all i seek

a drink

i will raise my glass, bow my head and close my eyes

memories of conversations with friends flood my mind and mix with my blood...

intoxication comes, pleasingly warming me

the memories come in waves

as i finish my pull...

visions flash in black and white, grainy sun spotted stills

warming me pleasingly



its time to rest my mind and put my soul to bed

i bring the beer to my lips before i make myway to the end of the bar. my feet leading me without thinking. I mind is reaching for the line that was just there. I have found in most bars the light at the end of the bar has some quality that allows the absorbing of words. I set my beer and my book down. Only then taking notice of the sometime patrons and regulars. I love this place.



where are you going with this? The question that always plagues me when I sit to read. I scare myself sometimes because I am ussually willing to follow flights of fancy and go down into the darkest cellars of the authors minds. Racing heart, sweaty palms and all. Achored to the stool I dare to roam all over. I pick up the tome and dive in. I read of bookstores and murders. I read of children and tears. A fencing match between the devil and the author.



I finish the Stella and look down the bar. Jackie is tending this evening. She makes her way down to me and I nod. What are we having this time she asks. I raise my hand and spread my finger apart about 2 inches McCallan and then raise my fingers again and McCallan. She crinkles her nose at me. She grabs the 18 and starts to pour. She sets the glass down "Must be distrubing"

"Scotch seems to be the best protectant to these dark pages" I say as I bring the glass my mouth. Cheers. Armed again I delve deeper into the book. letting him lead me where he will.

trying to hold sand

i awoke in your embrace the night of your father's wake.
I felt him there with us and heard his voice.
"I will show you what will come" he said to me.
He bid me walk with him and I agreed.
Mid-breath I left you and returned.
Hair once black had now gone white.
Lives upon lives I lived that night.

Down every road, I found my self alone
and still i stayed and called you home.

Would you have stayed if you had known?

4:17

what was that? I asked myself. I felt it again; she is trembling. I keep my eyes closed for just a moment longer. I look up to see the bedside clock blazing 4:17 at me.

"I need to talk." I hear so softly it seems she is talking to herself.

"I know." I get out in a broken voice. I sit up, stretch my neck and reach for the light.

"Leave it off or i don't..." her voice trailing off. I feel her trembling becoming stronger.

"Its okay. its okay. We will leave them off." I say as I settle myself closer to her. "What is it, my sweet?"

"They have come back..." she whispers her legs pulled, arms wrapped around them. " Are you sure?" I can feel her looking up at me.

"Never been more sure of anything" I say as I reach out and touch her face.

"I can't do this to you." she said through her laboured breaths.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her close to me. "I am here."

I feel her body relax just a bit, her head now laying on my shoulder.

a conversation at bedside

of use and youth
sing to me

of family and friends
sing to me

of tears and longing
sing to me

sons and daughters
sing to me

of wives and mothers
sing to me

sing this numbness away

i will learn your song
and sing it in your stead

must we all go?

he is aging before my eyes
growing tired as he speaks
he will know us

a father lies as the son sits by his side
the thread of conversation jumping back upon itself
he will remember

the drugs so strong, they dull all
a daughter will help him drink
he will ask more of all of us

he will envoke a prayer and wrap it in a tear
a wife will sleep as best she can
he will trust in us

i strain my mind
shut my eyes tight against world
i will focus all that is in me
i will pray,
cry,
laugh,
remember,
dream,
and watch you pass.

we don't have long now

She turned to me with a look of seriousness, her face grave but her eyes shinning. "Would you walk with me if the whole world could fly?" she asked. One of her tests again. I have answered quite a few recently, she is writing again.

I take a moment to think about the question, to show that I am taking this seriously. I light my cigarette and take a hit. "I would." I say through the exhale of smoke. "I would forsake my wings and never fly again, if you would ask."

She closed her eyes. I could almost see the pictures of the world she was envisioning. The age and worry melted off her face as she opened her eyes. They focused on me, misty.

"We don't have long now." she whispered, kissed me and left.

mirrored waters

is it water that we tread on?
for i have fallen through the ground

I will try to stand upon my own two feet in this world and the other

do we really know what lies atop our dressers?

I empty my pockets every day and place the items inside a ceramic jar, given to me by one I still think about. It is not exactly round at the opening, maybe 10 inches in diameter but it takes my life's contents without any trouble. It is a purple jar with a ring of running dark grey about its lip. The steely grey has dried in place as it ran down its side in the kiln. There are tiny imperfections in the ceramic where the air bubbles exploded as it heated up. I have had it for many years now. No chips or cracks as of yet. It is one of a few things that I have carried with me from place to place. It is full of change, receipts and God knows what else.

It is Monday, the day to restore order to the world. I have dusted and removed all the clutter from the top of my dresser. Socks that have made several attempts at freedom have been safely returned to their drawers. The matches have been picked up from my glass candle dish. I have replaced the candles that have started to melt to half an inch of the glass.

I have looked at the jar 5 times and I cannot bring myself to go through it.

I have fixed my bed. I have folded the laundry. I have sorted the rest for my trip to the laundry mat. I have hung all my coats and rearranged the shirts again. I have straightened all my shoes. Picked up all my books.

I will not touch the jar today.

I will write in whispers

you will not hear me when I vocalize the words
you will not see me as I dance and play

I will write in whispers and move the world to my tune