these are the times
that try men's souls
i've heard it said

and i'll agree
that days like these
are better spent

alone in bed.

too late to be coherent like a fuzzy eyed slack jawed walrus spewing forth soup through sticky whiskers as they brush the dusty floor. the bane of my existance! shrieks the startled crow as it pokes itself in the glaring eye of the bright moonbeams pulsing to the rhythm of the pounding thumping bumping cars as they fly by on quiet streets with sidewalks oh so wide ... stretching on into the late night ... glaring white under the beams of the sedentary watchful eye of the man in the moon.

the stars overhead
a vast sky of a billion tiny lights

the roaring ocean
an endless sea of moving water

the peaceful forest
a network of sun spotted leaves

the open prairie
where sky and grass never end

this beauty surrounds me
and brings me to You.

the eternal creator
without beginning or end

the brilliant blinding ball of energy glows in the sky as the sun kisser faces another day in the light of the truth or dare she asked Him boldly going where few had gone before time began as the sun maker spun time and eternity into being out of nothing but the truth the whole truth be told i cant look long because it hurts my eyes are the windows to the soul is the heart which beats for the One who is the Son.

shadows cast upong the ceiling by the lights of the two cans of worms food for one fish two fish red fish blue fishers of men and women and children file through single file please the conductor shouted as he scratched his head with a tired arm and hammer baking soda is great for getting your whole wash clean up for dinner says mom loudly as the aircraft carrier moved away from the pier one imports and exports to a far away land where the sun sets in the opposite direction of the way i want to go away from here to there are some amazing clouds tonight as we watch the sun slip past the trees and into the distant shadows cast...

falling into a trance of infinity [a nice car but just another anachronistic american icon of luxurious squallor] isnt that a storm? no, thats a squall – a huge storm that brushes over and past like a broad shouldered man who cant fit through narrow doorways as he breaks the jambs into sharp splinters of fresh pine ... that heavenly smell that can cure a cold when you lay in its bed of needles and pins randomly stuck in the cushion on the side of sewing room to breath room to grow room to release the hounds and watch them bay at the silvery moon hanging suspended from a piece of invisible fishing wire in the canopy of space, time, and infinity....

The switch flipped
and now its on
back and forth every day till the bulb burns out replace it with another one but it wont burn as bright as the love in my eyes these days and the switch is flippin faster threatning to blow a circuit forcing a blackout and then what? then we start over
"Time to go back to the beginning" (Inigo once said)
and its true
back to the innocence back to reality screw the new one in and take off down the road
were in for another ride
sara winter — june 2002

Back from Blinking Back Tears
falling slowly from one memory to
another one slips sliding down my
mind whirlin and twirlin from
the clutter dig through it find the
bottom and pull the plug watch it
all fly down the drain clogging the
veins of the heart restricting the
flow of love sweeps through breaking
the barrier and clouding the mind............
sara winter — june 2002

heat waves stifling in the old post office at a summer concert battle of the bands is about to begin who will win who will triumph ... the strident sounds of dissonance bounce off the high ceilinged architecture as a ten inch blue mohawk walks by and a heavily tattooed anti-nazi patched girl sways in the center of the crowds of dyed and pierced kids these days the future of america sweet land of freedom to be whatever you want to be ... for now just kids having fun in the summer heat rockin and rolllin to the sound of music that resonates inside them here at this place this piece of history transformed for the modern age.

who knows which way the wind blows as this world turns and spins a million miles per hour or so it seems that time flies by like the silver subway in the bowels of the great city that never sleeps. where did it go? i ask myself as i sit here working late at night and suddenly it is summer again and another year has passed by in the blink of an eye that is watering [like i just came out of the wind rushing by when i stick my head out the car window at 75 miles per hour and tears stream down my cheeks with laughter at the thought of how ridiculous i must look to passersby]. time that constant battle of deadlines and juggling my schedule like a circus sideshow hawker with too many spinning plates and they tip, wobble and turn as he desperately tries to keep them all going going going never a gone like in an auction when there is finally an end to it all and it is over and done and sold to the man with the tired eyes and the cheery smile to hide the fatigue inside.

my friend says "meh" so frequently, indifferently,
to hide from showing
the feelings of true emotion
they lie beneath the surface of his calm exterior
... the outside ...
the facade of being in control ... collected.
"meh" is just another way to circumvent
the need
to show emotion.

... release ...

"meh!"

jimmy eat world
jimmy find death
jimmy eat word
jimmy find life
— Apr 05 2002 · 01:00 pm

the raging lunatic sits and spits while he thinks that the world is round like the room he's in smiles in his head when he spins around to see the blackness enclosing his mind...what is it about the insaness of insanity that draws you in and holds you close like a brother...
— sara winter 4.3.02

becky the girl in western pensylvania who owes me a picture that she refuses to send a package a letter anything you can as long as it comes quickly he shouted as he crossed the busy intersection of truth and lies on the bed facedown as he reads the story of his life which is folded open like a brief wrinkle in time to go to the store his mother shouts and she anxiously knits like a fiend before the approaching winter snow lightly dust the furniture with a damp ragamuffin child with outstretched hands and a heart burning with passion to know the truth.

the evil cow fixed it's burning eye of hatred upon the bane of it's existance... the black raven whose only goal in life was to raise a ruckus.

jimmy reads the poetry rubs his wandering eyes which settle on a remote object in the not to distant future far off place where we find ourselves twiddling out hums in anticipation of the newly released piece of sound as it hits my ear in a swarm of bees.

mercy mylanta to sooth the stomach as it wrenches itself a certain death from the acidic food that you have devored like a lion seeking it's prey as it stalks through the jungle of snarled traffic jams and exhaust plumes which rise like angels toward the heavenly bodies which float carefully in space and time all wrapped into one cosmic force called God.

floating free the walrus sat idly upon the tip of an ice cube soaked in vinegar while rusting vigorously over the frizzy chunks of tasteless death or life or however you see it needs to be or not to be that is the question of the preponderance of the evidence that demands a verdict while we sit and sour in the pews what is that odor eaters that go in shoes to eliminate the smell of your stinky feet as the tread upon the barren earth that we have been created from the dust and that is where we shall return.

the great white albatross wings its way toward the deepening water is the wellspring of life sucks sometimes but you have to just press on the door and it will open with a thud as he fell swiftly into the oncoming traffic jam in the city creates so much tension in our marriages are such a happy occasions when people are lying there bleeding on the floor as decay is imminent in this third world country of disease and depression is all around us and we have no answers can only be found in jesus is the way.