Purpose

ideas sprout and flourish
briefly
a purpose is constructed

Travel

heading out toward the stars
i row my ship
oars dipped in dark nebulae

Abandoned Shoot

a plan bursts up through the cold
like a bud pushing through snow
seeking clean air and sun’s warmth
but who will tend it through spring?

Burned Out

and there it is again
a spark, a flicker
that brushes the kindling
into licks of flame

Water

Rushing in the gutters it seems
Ever so plentiful, much like
The tears that stream on lonely days

More

this is it
the whole banana
phone home tonight
and remember

Trumpet Man

blow that horn
came the cry
from the crowd
his brow wiped
he launched