inside a box
wrapped in a bow
under wrinkled paper
(contained)
blue roses
at my door
I am a wildflower
I am a meadow
I am a wide open space
you can’t sit me on a shelf
you can’t put me in a vase
(i’m withering here)
blue roses don’t exist
blue roses can’t grow
I am a wildflower
I am a meadow
I am a wide open space
(you don’t know)
grow
wild
blue
You wrote me in (a certain way)
I didn’t speak my dialogue (correctly)
Asked too many questions
Laughed in all the wrong places
Didn’t gaze up at you (as it was written)
I went off your manuscript
into a poem,
a painting,
a cloud
(and you couldn’t write me back)
The hero will always be hero (you hold the pen)
I’m standing on the balcony
I’m falling in the ocean
I’m setting with the sun
(not every story has a happy ending)
a shade of green
for every promise
that summer makes
Wouldn’t bet it all on Friday
as Friday came and went
just another square on the calendar
just another face in the crowd
just another coin in the fountain
just another, just another
It goes on and on, the waves roll in
but the tide never really changes
just more broken shells left to find
walked this beach a thousand times
bet it all on Friday again
but nothing changed, what remains
inside these walls of sky again
lighthouses
but we keep
building walls
Inside these walls, fix them up,
build them up again, patch the holes
we’re leaking out everywhere,
seeping through the cracks, every piece of
us, of Us, running down the walls
flowing through the gutters, spilling
away from this place. Here I hung
curtains of hope and invited the sun in,
but the sun has gone and the glass is
broken and so are we, so are we, and all
that was here is cracked from your words
turned inside out, this house we were,
and all our ghosts and angry walls
can’t contain broken glass and bullet holes.
We take it with us and move on.
warmth
her face
inside of us
no place for cold
a thousand miles
down the shore, I walked
before the gulls weary wings
and mine, we rested
by walking the sea’s remember
you once walked here, too
before broken shells
and words, winter’s bite
echoes of tidal times
moon phases, things
you can count on
you
disappeared
one set of footprints in sand
even the waves know
erase it all
quickly, so we don’t
look back, so stark
these clouds who used
to gather down, they look
away now, just me
a one way trip
I’ll go quietly
Little Bird Sea Shore
little bird
ocean shore
walking the edge
waves, skitter skitter
stop, beak the sand
in and out along
the tidal know
you stay you go
little bird I watch
you see
skitter skitter away
from me back and forth
sun to moon you
wait rolling waves
advance retreat
finally you fly
I
fly
with
you
wave after wave
of clouds and you
rolling in on me
it’s not far, that distance between
believe
and the way your eyes looked away
clouds that look like angels
fade back to white on blue
those things we build upon
foundations
stacked on sand instead of stone
cracking, crumbling, falling down,
silent questions louder than lightning strikes
inside
distance appearing like fog over water
doubt thick in the air
and where the cracks are
your questions grow like wildfire
I burn
but
I
still
know
the contrast
she believes yellow
it’s all blue
when the sun was still early in the sky
and the waves broke easy near the shore
I waded past knee high white caps into the Atlantic
early summer smiled and so did I
floating through what the sea rolled my way
hours like minutes, until the clock faced sky
began to fill with cloudy hands
the water churned mixing salt and sand
the roll pulled me down the shore, but still I rode
swam harder to keep time with the sea
the sun sank lower, watching me
clouds spread darker, angering the sea
I grew smaller and more tired, floating out the waves
still I stayed in that day
where else would I be?
the tide began to rip and pull at me
drew me out further, where the surf broke high and loud
I dove beneath, let it swirl above
but it all came faster and faster
trying to keep up with the sea
my breath was short and salty
what I had left was low as the falling sun
watching as a breaker swept over me
tossed beneath its turbulent green
I washed up on shore, a piece of driftwood
next wave hit me square, spun me under
pulled me back, so I stayed at the edge and didn’t leave
sun still watching, still waiting, still listening
I was salt and sand and part of the sea
wave after wave weathering me
inside
the bubble
no one
will ever hurt her
hold
hold
hold
her there
in that smile
life
will
burst
soon
what once floated on lost
grew roots from the sky, and they
wrapped around clouds, painting them
luminous and full of harmony,
and the roots of found rained down
in gentle hold, showed the trees
how to stay the seasons, how to last
they spread and deepened, wove
through time, centuries of roots,
paths that crossed and crossed again
until it became one path that grew
and led us home
the places we gather
inside
how we hide
in between
the pieces of yesterday
and the rise of tomorrow
within
us, and through all time
we didn’t know but walked
empty
trying to hold water
up
with our hearts, and how
it rained down
rained down
on
us
before
we
knew
Us
reaching, but
mornings she knew
only white
The sailboat waited for the wind,
for the tide to rise, and the clouds
waited for the sun, while the trees waited
for rain. The river waited for the moon
to tell its tidal tales, and the fish waited
for the river to flow their days. And it was
quiet, and still, and I was waiting, too.
I was counting tides on the sailboat,
waiting for you.
i fell off the edge of the world
tumbled through time, through
the air you left behind. you flew
away inside of me. I stayed
and cried, my insides
empty runways,
clouds melting into my head
asking why, why I was stilled,
holding the air you left behind
threshold
of forgotten
open door
I’m sorry sending the angels was all I could do
as I knelt in the glass and mud.
Spring won’t come this year.
I didn’t see you until you almost
hit the back corner of my car, almost
took me with you, rolling, scraping, across concrete,
flipping, air dirt air dirt, glass, metal, tree –
almost –
I already knew before my car came to rest on the edge.
Smoke began to rise from your truck, and it was all
so close
so close you were to me, to the tree, to right side up and upside down,
to where you were going,
so close. I asked them to be with you,
the angels,
when the other voices yelled, “Step back!”
And today what’s left of your almost –
a tire with a white cross and flowers,
but still,
an angel,
so close.
you’re on a plane but you are not coming home,
waiting in line, third for take-off, a life through
oval windows, and you’re off again, gaining air
losing ground, time spend moving around,
departures and arrivals, runways and wind direction,
climbing and descending, landing gear,
it’s just another day, another day I drink tea alone,
another day the sky claims home
Use all your tools
To crush her, to grind
her unrecognizable.
Show her what happens
when someone leaves
you, leaves YOU.
She’ll be sorry when
there’s nothing left
of her but
pieces
of
broken
Watch her crumble,
stomp on her, kick
what’s left, and then
call her a breakdown,
a total loss, a waste,
watch her fall
trying to save
the children,
holding them
up, keeping
their heads
just above
your angry
tide, while
you, you
laugh at
her struggle,
watch the waves
swallow them,
and whisper in your
tiny, monstrous voice,
“I win.”
childhood days
upside down
reflections
You make a joke
You throw a joke
I am the joke
Can’t I take a joke
They laugh, they look
You smile, I within
I am the joke
What’s wrong, but
They know, I just
Can’t take a joke
I am the joke
It is me
And they laugh
At your jokes
They laugh at me
You grow like
A giant fed by
Their laughter, and
I shrink – tiny, tiny
Me, and that makes
An even better joke
So you say that, too
The laughs swallow
Me up, tiny me
disappears
Like
a
joke
Talking to the Clouds 