I Long

I long to introduce you to your better self.

Your artist, your apothecary, your alchemist.

Your architect, your drawer, your painter, your prophet.

I long to help you unlock your treaure chest 

on the desolate beach

and run your hand over all your hidden gems

and pearls

like a rosary

until you pray to yourself when you are weak.

I long to introduce you to your stronger self.

The one that is tough as boot leather, yet welcoming.

I long for you to find kittens in the empty boxes of your soul

and play with them, running yarn as long as your arm

and smiling which each tottering step.

I long for you to feel the sun on your face, every day.

I long for you to wake up happy, held for a moment in an embrace

just before you wake up, whether I am there or not.

I long to introduce you to your better self, the one that smirks at magic tricks

and is amused but has the real thing in the back pocket.

I long to shake your hands free of the false things 

that comfort you

Shake them out like grass clippings on a blanket

wrap you in wool

give you hot chocolate

and introduce you to the warm fire

of your own soul

which chases away the shadows for once

and for all.

Gratitude

The passionate words I hear from mouths that are not my own

hit my ears differently.

Instead of a cold crack of a bat hitting a ball out to center field, it feels warmer,

like a pitch perfectly landing in a huge catcher's mit.

Eve & Newton

When Eve took the apple from the tree, after the serpent told her to, on that first bite, didn't she think to herself, this should have been a radish, or perhaps raw ginger, to better reflect the sour gravity of the situation? Apples are far too sweet, too tasty, too succulent, to refreshing to be part of such a calamity. The snake smiles and slithers away, perhaps thinking of oranges and lemons. Oh no you don't, thought Eve, why not bring me sour grapes instead? She threw the apple up to the Gods who held it, waiting centuries to drop it and hit Newton on the head. 

I am an Echo

I have no where to go, I am waiting for you to speak.

Then I can move through the room, bouncing off of the walls. 

In prudent silence I exist for all time until my moment arrives.

Tribe of Dragons

 Belong. 

Freedom of the Mind

The ice is slippery, 

I fell

into another dimension

winter of the soul

freedom of the mind.

The earth is dusty,

I stepped

onto the prairie burning

summer of the heart

freedom of the mind.

The stone is sleek and polished

I glanced

at it under the rushing waters of the river

spring of the vision

freedom of the mind.

The leaves are red and orange

I quivered

floating like a piano melody

rise of the spirit

freedom of the mind.

Tempting Fate

I've often made up my mind at just the wrong time

Busy bee with honey lips

Seeing the signs and laughing at the guns.

At Dusk

His black beard was the color of the sky without stars.

Her pen was broken and ink was spilling on the oak desk.

Their rough elements were caught in the door as they started the car.

One's work is never done not even at dusk.

People have a way of loking down the well.

She didn't know the difference between the sun and a flash.

He stopped the train with a loud yell.

It didn't matter when it crashed.

So long to Louisiana with its cypress trees.

If time was a string and I was a bell,

and I make a sound

I cannot tell.

Lucky Roots

The chunky hunk of ravaged bone left after the vultures desceneded from their airy throne was thrown, haphazardly by a buzzard, near a hyena, a paw, a beak, a tuft of fur. This is what had become of the zebra which had been running fast, desperate even, in his final moments. When I try to find a balance, like the zebra's fur, a black and a white, a yin and yang, I can just be, because I am like a tree, rooted in place. I do not run, therefore I cannot be chased.

The Jogger and the Dead

A woman was jogging in the graveyard 

The blacktop paths were clean beneath her feet

Perhaps she felt safer away from cars

While the quiet there gave her some relief

It was still an odd choice to say the least

She huffed and puffed among the grey tombstones

While the skeletons laid there fast asleep

She like them, dedicated and all alone

Her arms moved as she took another breath

More than anyone I have ever seen

She must be at peace with both life and death

Who knew it was in a fitness routine 

It still struck me as a little crazy 

Speech is Speeding By

Speech is speeding by I see the bits and pieces of it, like tornado shrapnel

out of Dorothy's window.

Why do I even mutter?

The Tin Man knows all my worries which stir my beating heart to speak.

The Lion nudges me to get off the ledge.

The Scare Crow he is long gone.

I miss him as he is running through the field.

Make me a big black crow,

make me an apple tree,

make me the flat face of the emerald,

as it gleams.