Folders

A tie-dyed patterned sky
bleeds on
A cracked, chipped sidewalk
strolls on
Happen on, my misplaced mate.

You will go far
You will drift
Always remember
The things we missed
The things we miss

Locked in folders
Lost somewhere
Revisit the first draft
Flawed perfection
Could not be
Touched

Remember this
Remember this

Do not remember what it is that we missed –
What it is we will miss.

Brandon Morrow

Brandon Morrow
Standing tall
On the mound
My favourite sun;
My favourite star
You are
Lights out,
Striking out,
Back-to-backs
With your
Fastball
Curveball
You have command
A firm grip
You are a
no-hitter dream
A rare double-play
Defeating
Angels
Royals
Tigers
A’s
You are an Ace
How I long to see
Your perfect game.

standstill

Cut a new habit

out of an old pattern;

it will never be the same.

A copy of an original

will never be as clear.

Had the winning numbers,

but never cashed them in.

Now you keep trying -

trying to win, my dear.

Journey

Walking this road listening
To a memory that whispers;
I’ve travelled quite a long way.

Windows down, air conditioning broken
Northern summer heat, cruise control steady
Bob Dylan foreshadowing
My best and my worst dream.

Light my house in flames
I’d still be okay;
I’ve travelled quite a long way.
And my memories still whisper.

Aunt.

Every dream of you I have
is a gift that I’ve been given,
to have that moment with you
when that chance has since been stolen.

Some days I wish I had your advice;
wish I wrote down all your stories -
Though I know what you would say,
I know I need that all the same.

It’s cruel that you’re not here;
I always hold you close.
I find that when I’m busiest,
is when I miss you most.

The things that I grew up with,
Are slowly going away.
Without these needed influences,
I hope I don’t go the wrong way.

I hope that you forgive me,
for the times that I was silent.
There is much I wanted to say -
but thought I’d have another day.

I look at what you’ve left me,
and it’s nice but makes me sad,
to think of you in items,
instead of what we had.

Tonight before I sleep,
I hope you’ll meet me in my dream,
so I can hug and tell you
that you still mean so much to me.

The sky is sleeping low tonight,

its napping hides the warm daylight.

The stealthy thief, it steals the heat,

from bodies cold from the release.

 

The weather, it speaks differently,

reciting pages of its diary -

of broken promises and neglect,

human nature: the suspect.

chipped paint

The exhausted dream now turned so raw
The fears through mud I thought I saw
And through that murky, shady clay
A light so light emerged with awe

Louder and louder I heard them play
All those dreams that went away
Now christened clean with tints of blue
Though they hid they did not stray

They retraced the murals I once knew
Fine artistry that was crude but true
Betrayed by walls that lacked white prime
A paint chipped story still held its hue
 
Now more appealing was this grime
An intricate effort one could not mime
To let it shift on would be a crime,
A dream eclipsed, trespassed by time.

black current,

want to try something new

all the colours of the rainbow

but she only wants you

 

a kiss between eyes

a caress with a smile

a brokenhearted silence

that shouts for a mile

 

tangled by your lead

yet ahead of your game

lead me and lead me

to form something tame

 

whisk the memories,

beat them raw

confuse and relay them

but one day they’ll thaw

 

defeat and lament

is what you will win

standing ovation,

for the web that you spin

 

the classic lines

the unfinished thoughts

the season has ended

no afterthought.

sliding doors

sliding doors,

trapping breeze,

sliding doors,

close with ease.

 

budge them open,

from the heat,

less and less,

the two sides meet.

 

the wood is chipped,

the glass is warped

this place is full,

of heated mist

 

the doors

don’t work,

so well

these days

 

the doors,

they creak,

taunting

me

 

working things

fail

everyday

 

sliding doors,

don’t close on me.

Cold Windows

It is hard to find people who care about things the way I do,
and about the things you do too.

When no one is looking at that spot by the road,
I see everything,
and it has always been this way.

They wonder why I am afraid
of the things they laugh about
and ridicule me about

But these things come to me in dreams,
and in the morning,
when no one in the world is awake except for me.

I am wiser than you
I am more afraid than you
because I know what waits
to take you away from here,
leaving no one else in the world who cares about anything

except for me.