As a child



I remember

arms and legs


everything into my mouth

pebbles dirt bees

I sang the earth

running rubber knees

kicking the sky swing

standing where the rain just……..stopped

laden fruit trees


I was used to shining light in the dark

glasses in the sun

hiding blindness

running ahead

while looking back

I trip upon the truth


now that I am on

the outside of the mountain


I’m trusting


love knows





photo credits:


like smog shadows rifling valleys

the mountain holds its breath


Fragile like feverish water

the ocean aborts the moon’s children


Fragile like bees loosing direction

and stamens playing their last hands


Fragile like children born overwhelmed

by viruses perplexed


Fragile still

like a flower abandoned by the garden

in blooming makes no mistakes

intelligence in its unfolding


fragile flower~


The blade



All these people on the street, I’m thinking, we’re all knives

we’re all knives but these other people, they’re the handles

I’m a blade


pacing back and forth

back and forth on the curb

panic perched on an edge with papered wings

it’s just a bridge   just a bridge   just a bridge

I’m a blade

the papered wings finally open and

I walk across


in the restaurant I tie on my apron

I take orders   bring food   walk up and down

up and down aisles

smelling strong coffee and old food

everyone talking

and their voices open wide in my head

mouths move    words pour out    I keep moving faster

surprised there’s meaning

the whole room

one long sentence

it’s poetry in motion


the $1000 car is a boat too big for handling

I’m too tired cross country driving falling night

I have to get there    have to get there

you know I have to be there on time if I know what

but now hard comes the rain

and then harder a somnolent coating

car light prisms smearing all the windows bright white

in the middle of the bridge

the papered wings open wide

and I say

“close your eyes it’s a dream”

and it is

a dream in this moment


my car’s bumper a foot from the campground tree

parked like an expert valet all breakfast voices and sunshine

I wake with not a clue how I got here

having slept without knowing it the rest of the night

a woman with her kid walk by

close to my window but

everyone seems miles and lifetimes away

something opens as I look all around me

the papered wings fly out and I push them away

starting the ignition automatic all action

I turn from the sun’s mourning light

on my way west again numb to all handles

I’m a surgeon cutting into muscle to remove the strain

I’m the blade




                                                    I’m not

                                                    frozen in this moment…

                                                    My memory is as old as stone.

                                                    Relative to the rhythm of a tap dance

                                                    it is entertaining

                                                    but no longer of use

                                                    for direction.

                                                    I am


                                                    in the estrangement of local weeds

                                                    the cadence of direct deposit

                                                    the allegiance of filtered water

                                                    the geometry of home.

                                                    There must be

                                                    a more reliable guideline

                                                    in chaos

                                                    I tell myself…

                                                    I’ve worked hard to lose

                                                    the map of my soul.

photo credit: <a href=””>tlindenbaum</a&gt; via <a href=””>photopin</a&gt; <a href=””>cc</a&gt;