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In the dreams of kissers who never kiss, I dreamt of a kiss that never happened

Your return coincided with lucidity exiting the comfort of me

Your presence in the wee hours a welcome gift of my aspiration

This time your face had been so close to mine

I could smell the subtle scent of coffee tied to my illusion of you

We were caught in a moment of hesitation

A mere millisecond of anticipation

Dream falling towards the other

Something might happen

Between two smiles descending into the entirety of the eternal

When the heart can only flutter

And the view is intentionally obscured

To blindly be guided by villus who whisper directions

Would our mouths melt upon meeting

But we never touch

A flood of emotions always awakens me

The way violent dreams can shake thee

I want to fall back into sleep

My lips still yearning for something incomplete

But I can’t find my slumber

Our touch must be tied to logs and lumber

And you so far away might well be just a fantasy

One that lives between words and a dream state done knitted

Please tell me if you where there, did we kiss?

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Up in the trees

On a Monday

When every puddle reveals its filler

Gary and I are waiting

Amid drops on the pavement

With a phone that won’t ring

Where pearls of water will hide me

There are no words

In these reflections, leafless and thrashing

Your absence constrains us

Occasionally flickering among

A delivery that was not Where

Rumblings that shudder

Some job that had yet to start

We were alone together

When everything goes

Up in the trees

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Finger Prose

I looked at my finger today,

And remembered how I had sliced off a hunk on a Sunday

There was so much wind blowing through my hair

And I of thought of how grateful I was beyond that little scare

A small bit of joy for a finger to keep in the self aware

And I let my digits run through to push the wind back into the air

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Despite those words in my head

In a quiet moment before bed

Where darkness brings night

And dreams take flight

I whisper to you

Sleep tight

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Twenty eight sunrises

Search the dawns light

Beyond warm confines

In scrubbing wind

And frigid water

Drown the reputation

With anyone willing

Together it’s a new day

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The snow moon

Gliding on edge

Across a starlit frost

Working the dark hours

To trim fat off the soul

On steel blades that skip

Across that which groans

Towards an amber light

My dim path home

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Prose at Woosley

I haven’t posted in a while 

The sky has been so gray

And I have not felt worthy of what I might say

Despite my preoccupation

I know I need your companionship

But, what message I might I display

I know not under my blanket on this day

Forgive me if all I have is a scroll past

Your happiness and Joy is for what I pray

As I walk with these dogs at Woolsey

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Not every dream is worth remembering

Time spent asleep, as real in this moment as in any un-lived fantasy. Where I see my self I was walking a narrow path that ran through a meadow. My companions a small group of friends and a brown rabbit. Although none could provide a familiar face. We were Nevertheless a cheerful group.  All to happy to frolic in the warmth of a springlike morning.  We were bathed in a delightful sunny sunshine, and with us was our favorite fluffy bunny. As for him. He was about the size of an average dog and he walked on his hind legs. On the other hand, he was a normal brown bunny. But he did not speak, he was simply a quiet companion. Like I said, I did not recognize anyone in the group from my awake world. However, one person in the group was a witch. I was not attempting to label her, but she wore the cliché attire. Wide brimmed pointy black hat, black petticoat, striped leggings, etc. She was a confident young woman, although a bit bossy. As we all walked I fell behind. I was busy contemplating who this witch friend was. Unlike being awake I was unable to both walk and think in my dream land. Then suddenly I overheard the witch ordering everyone to brush our teeth with the saliva of the rabbit. This was disturbing. She went on to tell us the bunny had just eaten some mint leaves. Her explanation concluded that the fresh mint leaves made his spit good for you. I did not want to obey the witches repugnant command. Why would anyone want to use thumper drool to clean their mouth? Oh; but then wouldn’t you know it, she went and sang some singsong magical spell and POOF! 

And there he was, Peter Cottontail no longer on the bunny trail. He was now high above us in a dark storm cloud. Our sunny spring moment gone in a wif. It had been transformed into a terrifying storm. More alarming yet, Our fluffy friend now had an oversized head and was backlit in neon blue. There he was high In the sky, his giant bunny head surrounded by black storm clouds. It was definitely an unearthly vision to be sure. His adorable soft furry mouth opened wide. Out poured a shower of icy shards. A sleet of Minty bunny spit for us to brush with. I was mortified and now resolute to be insubordinate to this witch. Unfortunately all I could do is put my hand over my face and pray no bunny drool dripped into my mouth. 

Then everything went dark and the next thing I knew I had left the meadow. My person stolen away by a trick of the witch. It was there I found myself seated at a roll top desk in a quiet hallway of an old Victorian home. The witches home. Oh yay. I was there to do bookkeeping. And I was immediately disappointed that I was not there to catch-up on my own bookkeeping. No, as you might guess I was there to create pivot tables for the witch. Despite this new situation, I discovered I was enjoying the work, and above all, I did not have to brush my teeth with any bunny slobber. My reports were meticulous. I wondered if the witch would notice my eye for detail. Unfortunately she appeared too busy frightening her guests. I got up from the desk and walked to the door of the parlor to better see her. She was a pro. From my vantage point in the hall I watched as she jump scared the pants of each one. She was such a silly witch, both delightful and amusing to behold. And I thought to myself how I would love to join in on her fun little game. I bet myself I could jump scare the frock off her for sure. And so I prepared myself. 

In my mind I willed all the power and fury from within the depths of my soul. I was preparing for the pounce. However before I won the chance to see the entirety of those leggings, the witch spun a new spell and hid into a rectangle of smoky mist. She knew me. The shield she made had no corners but was a perfect foggy rectangle of gray pillowy clouds. I could see her face behind the misty mass (still not one I could recognize). Somehow this protective screen made her safe from my effort to jump scare. I began to doubt my confidence. Now it was fear that crept into the dream. Who was this acquaintance in the black hat? Was this witch more than a playful affliction? I may never know. The dream then evaporated and I awoke from my slumber. In the darkness of my room the witch and the bunny were gone. It was time, five am and I needed to get up. I was feeling old slightly hungover and much too jaded for any dream interpretation. I already knew I needed to go to work.

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David, Dad

Photo credit:Scott Cain

Today I drove home. My mom had found David’s suicide note moments before I left, so my departure was quite emotional. The drive was mostly uneventful. I only became infuriated once when one really awful pickup truck driver cut me off east of Midland. I kept my cool and let him go. No need for two assholes in the world. When I got home, my dogs and daughter greeted me. I was adored much with love from all three. My wife also said hello from her recliner and continued to watch TV. After a while my son came out of his room and sat next to me on the couch. We both talked and I imbibed a rum drink to cool my mind after driving for 6 hours. For my wife’s amusement I told her all the gory details of my Dads death.  She seemed to enjoy the conversation. Then I made dinner for my son and myself. After eating I washed our the dishes and put away my luggage. Then I laid for a moment in my bed.  It was dark, I was home, and I felt very alone. The kids were in their rooms talking to friends, my wife watched more TV shows in the living room, and I sat by myself in the dark. Nothing unusual for a Saturday night, it was what it was. Inside I knew there is much to be grateful for, even when you don’t feel it. I texted a friend and went to bed.

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a midnight dip

Photo credit:Scott Cain

Would you swim with me in warm summer rain

After the party, after champagne

A stolen moment for us alone to meet

Two lost lovers in over their feet

On a midnight tryst, our masquerade

The envy of every mermaid

Diving towards a nethermost depth

Two fishes intertwined into every breath

Would we come up for air

To find only hands in the others hair

An affair of some summer swim

Of seven sensual seas, of breathless sin

Writhing sliding though rhythmic waves

Treading hands as carnal slaves

Searching depths bereft of cloths

Our skinny swim like nobody knows

-SAC

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Photo Credit, Scott Cain

Ursula advised me

Share one’s true name never

You may call me Scott it’s not so clever

I bring you all my prose in hand

It’s just a silly poem few want to understand

Why I write for you is nothing new

Sharing the me within me my hope of getting close to you

I want to look upon your face my eyes allowed to stare

Take my hand I will hold yours with great care

Behind your windows what will I see

Maybe a child in there climbing a tree

Or a playful sprite of wonder and delight

Will you be my true dreamer on a star filled night

Would you read my words they are so very few

And grant me a chance to get to know the true you

-SAC

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Two Swan Ice

Photo credit: Scott Cain

I wish you could be here with me to behold this moment

A wish to see colors reflecting on your face and the sky in your eyes

My wish to see you happy here and now

For you I pray this every day

-SAC

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Temple of Day Break

Photo credit: Scott Cain

I strode through the snow

To capture colors before the sun

My work to fill your heart

For you are the one

-SAC

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North Shore

Photo credit: Scott Cain

In the dark I ponder what I might say

Before dawn breaks into day

Fanciful nothings for whom I would run away

Down a cold dark path I will take flight

Following a white ribbon toward a first ray of light

My bounty of crimson colors to offer before tonight

A chance at losing myself in the fray

Please accept my benevolence into your hand with out delay

Are you ready to know I’m not ok

I am a dreamer seeking two windows in plain sight

Soul filled circles to drown me without a fight

Let me descend into your eyes with delight

-SAC

[offmen-scott]

Photo credit: Scott Cain

A good friend

worthy of the heart

Warms the spirit

On the darkest road

Through a frigid woodland

With their ephemeral

Gift of hope

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I’m taciturn

Photo credit: Scott Cain

Words fail me

They are never there when I need them

Words deceive me

That’s not what I meant to say

Words misrepresent me

I wish you knew me

Words lie to me

God only knows the truth

Words take precedent

But my vision is much better

Words do nothing

They are the easiest part of work

Words are words

And my mouth often fails them

-SAC

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Sunny Sunday summer morning

Photo credit: Scott Cain

I told myself to ignore the bright sunshine

At a table on a deck my seat in the warm summer sun

I listen to waves softly lap against the shore.

I told myself to ignore how hot I felt

From the woods to my back a cool breeze touches my neck

I listen to the quiet

I told myself to squelch the creeping feeling of a hangover

In my hand a fresh cup of black coffee

I listen to the cheerful clank of halyards against aluminum masts

I told my self to ignore the problems of my life

In front of me two dogs roll and play in the grass at my feet

I listen to a loon in the distance

I told my self to be grateful

This is a moment is denied to many

I listen to the sounds of a warm summer morning