The Past and Where the Idea Breaks

Photo booth picture strip

hidden in the back 

of an old notebook

A typewritten note

and a hand drawn ghost

keep it company

Four photos of us

Here the text breaks
The rest of the words
were lost
               and the idea
could not be saved
So now I muse
on us and then
Everything has changed
and we have stayed
the same
               Such a lie
Everything has changed
and so have we
                          Only
those moments remain
frozen in their perfection

For the Searchers

If I am a person
Who is lost
Who will be 
The one
To find me?

Love is a labyrinth 
in which we all become lost. 

We lurch through life
as though it were dark woods.

Lost & Found

Mundane
Ordinary
Everyday 
Existence
Defined
Solely
Through
Routine
Bored
Familiarity

Push 
Beyond
Known 
Paths

Wander
Through
Unknown
Forests

Find
That
Which
Has
Been
Looking
For
You

Not Every Lost City 

is Waiting to be Found

Reclamation

I am not lost,

I have returned to a home

never known.


I am not afraid,

I am finding the birth right

bequeathed to us.


Bird song fills

soft-lit afternoons,

a different kind of silence.


Feral kin step quietly

nearby. We exchange

a knowing glance.


I do not speak.

My voice has become

a stranger to myself.


I do not fear.

I will be provided for.

Reclaiming an ancient legacy.