My backyard fence was probably the most traversed place in my whole yard. To get to the fence, I had to squeeze through a narrow gap between a sharp evergreen and a pungent forsythia bush. As a child, this fence seemed like a great wall with an unknown force drawing me to the other side.
        Before my parents allowed me to climb over  my fence, I would sit under the yellow canopy of drooping forsythia branches and enjoy the sweet smelling flowers. I’d gaze through the chain link and imagine what great adventures I could have with the neighbor kids, if I could go over that fence. After school, both my neighbor and I would run home to our backyards to talk and pass sticks through the fence. To pass the time, we would spend hours trying to disentangle grape vines from the fence, stopping to snack on a few when they were ripe. We would weave crowns with the broken vines or wilted branches from the forsythia, and we would craft swords from fallen branches out of their maple tree. With these effects, we would wage grand battles through the fence until we were separated by the call for dinner. When I found a baseball in the school field, I could not wait to take it home to share with my neighbor. Together we wore the skin off that baseball playing catch, seeing who could throw it the highest or farthest, and trying to throw it through the diamonds between each link. The fence drew us together.
        My parents finally gave in to my ample requests and decided that I was officially "old enough to climb the fence." I rushed out of my house and darted between the evergreen and forsythia to tell my friend the great news. After getting consent from his parents, I clambered up the fence for the first time. The first time was a struggle. It was hard to get foot holds in the small openings. It seemed dizzyingly tall. Although it was one small step, I was thrilled when I set foot in the foreign land because I would finally be able to explore what I had observed through the fence and dreamed about for so long.
        His yard was full of wonders that mine did not have. He had a play set with two swings and a slide, a large plastic log cabin play house, and a deck, which was a novelty compared to the concrete slab my house had. I quickly looked past these things; why would I waste my time on a swing when I could run around and play games without a fence impeding me. When we played baseball, the section of the fence where our yards met was always home plate. At school all my other friends only talked about video games and television shows.  I tried the video games they talked about, but when I tried them I never understood the thrill of sitting on a couch and controlling an image. Being outside under my forsythia bush or running around with my neighbor appealed to me. It was where I felt the most natural and where I felt I could be myself.
        That section of fence behind the forsythia bush and evergreen tree impacts me still, even though I have moved away and have not laid eyes upon those yellow flowers in years. Whenever I am presented the option between watching a movie or going outside to walk or play catch, I will always opt for the latter. Something about a light breeze or a rustle of leaves or the song of a bird as it flies over helps relax me and ease away the day's tensions. I attribute this to the freedom I felt under the forsythia. Free from judging eyes, free from problems of the world, free from expectations.

There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object that he look'd upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him of the day, a part of the day
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.

Climbing trees became a part of this child,
And playing catch, splashing in puddles, racing bikes down the block,
And tormenting neighbor kids,
And the falling down and the scraping of knees
Became a part of this child.
Nap time, time outs, smelling thyme and rosemary and lavender,
Digging through the crisp verdant garden
All became a part of this child.
Boy Scouts, dinosaur hunting, star searching, pencil drawing,
Became a part of him.

His own parents,
Reading aloud, arranging play dates, preparing snacks,
Supplying toys only to be forgotten about
for a stick or perhaps a box.
Mother off working, leaving by dawn, returning for dinner
And father, strict, the warden, always teaching responsibility,
Both becoming part of this child.
Vacations and swimming and visiting the grandparent and getting spoiled
Going to the zoo and seeing so many terrifying and exciting creatures.
His parents, always feeding and inspiring imagination
Becoming a part of him.

Walking to middle school became a part of him.
Lockers, combinations, IDs, pungent locker rooms, the labyrinth of halls
crowded and loud
The anticipation for lunch, the sweet sound of the three o'clock bell
The flurry toward the doors all became a part of him.
Pushups and crunches and laps and blown whistles
Loving every moment of the cool fresh air
Newfound freedom, licenses, cars, jobs
This responsibility became a part of him.
Plucking, scratching, squeaking, struggling, playing
Sounds of an unproven orchestra growing together,
All became a part of this boy.

Surviving the first day freshman year
So small, so young, so innocent
Growing, maturing, learning, all became a part of him.
School dances and football games and musicals and stress
Cool clay carefully sculpted, melodic rhythms played in tune, rubber ***** quickly dodged
AP class after AP class, notebook after notebook filled meticulously
New friendships formed, old friendships strengthened.
All this became a part of this child.
These became a part of that child who went forth every day
And who now goes, and will always go forth every day.

Speckled shells lay shattered
Upon the verdant green grass

The robins ruffle their feathers
Feeling warm wind for the first time under the yellow sun.

Bravely hopping from the nest
A quick fright before they take flight

Black shadows soaring swiftly
Over the verdant green grass.


-AM

From the saunter downtown
to the carnivals Ferris wheel
it is my wish today to tell you how I feel.

A year has now passed
come and gone
my how it flew by so fast.

Oh the times we have had.
Too many to count
bocce and ice skating and stargazing, so rad!

It’s eleven eleven so make a wish,
perhaps a reluctant dance or sing along song?
Dream on my darling, for that is rare

Just because I am nervous,
don’t think I don’t care.
Sometimes I am as reserved as a bear.

Football games, eclipses, and smoke breaks out back
from my cave to your cave
no one else can match

Oh the times we have had.
Too many to count
yoga and dinosaurs and movies (good and bad).

Climbing, hiking, running
and laying on the floor bumming
Make all the days rush by.

From the top of my trees,
to the bottom of my heart
my affections are great, and I cannot wait
to see you soon

-AM

Flying in the skying so bule and wide
diving and swooping through branches so fast,
zooming past widnows and houses and cats.

Licking their lips and ready to pounce,
claws like switchblades silce the air.

Feathers ruffled and muffled and shuffled
dirfting to the ground weaving to and fro.

-AM

A brilliant flash.
Powerful, mysterious,
scaring young children

-AM

The sky darkens as clouds tumble in,
dusk at mid-day.
Cold water falls, and bombards the earth,
leaving dimples in the hard dry soil.
The clouds boil as they pain your face.
Your tears are hidden but not forgotten,
masked. Just as your eyes grow dark,
black tears drips downward, leaving
a sinuous streak across your cheek.
The water envelops you, caresses you,
but you resist its baptism.


-AM

A man named Lonely walked down the soft beach,
hand in hand with his wife Vainglory.

The opulent sun slowly rested lower and lower on the horizon,
Seagulls swooped, children chortled.
Sand blew around their ankles and empty pleasantries filled the air.
Lonely and Vainglory could talk for hours yet say nothing.
Waves flirted with the Earth, and Earth flirted right back,
clouding the water with clumps of tumbling sand.

Hand in hand they both wandered elsewhere. Bodies together, minds distant.
So beautiful Vainglory was. She knew it, he knew it.
Every morning Lonely reminded her, telling her, charming her.
It was habit.
Taking it for granted, smiling blankly, in one ear out the other.
Coexistence, habit, kelp.

She stepped on the head of a bull kelp, popping under her weight.
The acrid smell, buzzing flies, salty air returned him to the present.
Still walking. Talking.

Looking back, their footprints in the sand danced around each other,
light on their toes, skirting the ebbing waves filling them in.
As their steps fade, he wonders if they can find their way back.
Hand in hand they trod onward.

-AM

Mere Mere on the wall,
who is the kindest of them all?

Your reflection shines and shimmers bright,
through the darkest dusk of night.

No matter how much pain and gloom,
it will not jade the memory of you.

Fondly and kindly i look back so far,
In the reflection there you are.

-AM

I want to run, but I can't escape it.
I can't escape myself, yourself, ourselves.

Everywhere I turn to flee, to seek solace,
I see you, me, us.

So many lasts and too few firsts,
I wish things could start over, renewed and reborn like the moon's phases.

Ebbing and flowing, tugging on us on Earth so far away,
so lonely.

I wish for you the wold the strength the grandeur.
Peace

-AM

People. Places. Things.
The later of which is unnecessary. What do things do other than
clutter cloud and confuse?
They bury and hide the People and Places.
It is them that build the memories, the stories
It is them that provide reason

The silence deafens me.
stark alabaster walls stand so vertical and sharp,
a spider's thread dritfs in a cool breeze eminating from a small gap beneath a window.
Dust trickles down through the warm sunlight, frosting all the tables, shelves, and chairs.
Time is forever, the silence is greater.
Surrounding me, engulfing me, smothering me.

-AM

eEghnrtvy in hist dlorw ahs an deorr, a acelp.
ahtW ew not aalswy know is ahtw eht deorr is, adn hwy it is os.
ahllS ew bdillny accept? or aceeghlln eht assttu oqu?

egiinnoQstu adn acciilrt ghiiknnt illw aceeghlln eehst cdeeenprst.
aefilru is not not an inoopt, hiottuw aefilru adn efirst ew do not eimoprv
                                                         ­                                     ew do not gorw.
Disorder ilmpsy ehpssu adn aceegnorsu su ot dfin ahtt deorr ehorst dhlosu einoqstu.

-AM

The complexity of coupling is an exponential increase.
No matter how perturbed life may be, we strive to linearize it,
thank you Laplace. You transform us.

It is integral to simplify life.
Like Da Vinci, Like Thoreau:
“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication”
“Our life is frittered away by detail…simplify, simplify”

Let us not differentiate between the good or the bad
                         the high or the low.
Life is too brief to quantify, qualify, and compare it to others.
It is yours alone. Embrace the change over time.

.        nely                                    surmountable        ­     reak                    
A lo           moment has the in                power to b             your day.
       vely                                     credible                     righten                  


-AM

Bamboo shoots grow all two quickly only to diverge two soon.
Resilience comes not easily but is learned, whether rooted in
Earth, rock, sand we have learned to grow through our fears.
Are the hazards of growth greater than the ease of departure?
Keep this in mind, for I do two.

Us. That is something I will fight for,
Planted shallow are the roots, sanguinely sowing steadier

-AM

Deceit and conceit are concrete.
Raven’s feet patter  over the gutters,
the sewers beneath the street secrete
a pungent odor similar to raw meat.

Families strolling past shutter and mutter,
feeling elite plagued by their own effete.

-AM

The** Shuttle shakes and rumbles as it goes up.
You know you are going somewhere,
Weightlessness can’t be described
You Can drink up-side down. Drink water
Break crackers. floating crumbs get in eyes.
Take nap. Also a little sleep use it to stay stuck to same place while you slept.
Earth looks just like maps,
Only there aren’t any borders.

-AM

Cold hard sharpened blades cut deep grooves,
biting forcefully into the icy sheet.

Spinning and sliding and laughing
Pushing one foot ahead, then the other, then the other,
gliding effortlessly over the ice.
A deep cold refreshing breath.
Thrilled and revitalized with the smooth speed.

While nothing lies ahead, a sinuous trail stalks.
A thin film of water created only by the blades pressing firmly
             upon the ice, melting and paving the way ahead.

-AM

Stars fuse atoms
Atoms form diamonds
Diamonds solidify lovers
Lovers congeal families

-AM

The flight of life is so brief
fragile vulnerable incredible

The goldilocks zone so eloquently positioned,
is her porridge to thick or thin?
Hot or cold?

It is this thickness and thinness that permits our being.
Viscosity surrounds us with its turbulent beauty.

Flight is everywhere. In the skies, in the seas.
The fish fly gracefully climbing and diving
swooping from side to side
Our hearts squeeze and throb, ebbing blood
as periodic as the planets
Air floods our lungs, although sustaining
binds us to such a small rock in such a large world

The gravity of this holds us together while
we struggle to fly beyond our bounds.

-AM

There is nothing scarier than being fearless.

-AM

Innocence, adolescent, coalescence

The rain patters and beats over and over
as wind rushes through the nervous horizon.
Each time the mist touches down, a great electric arc leaps
between them.  The storm
smiles and looks over the land with its vivid blue grey clouds.
It is a beautiful storm that nurtures and enchants all the trees, sidewalks, and homes.
It is a storm that cannot return enough.
Thunder doesn’t roar but giggles.
Wind doesn’t shriek but caresses.
The rain beats faster and faster, eagerly flooding.

-AM

Our falter, whose art is Heavy,
Halloween be thy name.
Your kingdom’s numb
your children dumb on earth
moldy bread unleavened.
Give us this day our
wayward dead.
And give us our
***** as we forgive those
who *** against us.
And speed us not
into wimp nation
nor bequiver us
with needles, for thine
is the flimflam and the sour,
and the same *******
story in leather
for never and ever.
Ah: gin.

Bravery runs in my family.

Rain rain go away
We don’t want you here, your gloom and misery
your nourishment and catharsis.
We don’t want to be baptized under your command
or be surrounded by budding flowers
trickling streams
mud puddles.

Rain rain go way come again another day*
Why do today what we can put off until tomorrow.
Let’s procrastinate the harbinger of life, the unrelenting cycle
Evaporation condensation precipitation evaporation .
We cannot delay, sit back and listen to the gentle patter.
Just enjoy the grey.

-AM

The web undulates beneath him,
shimmering in the morning sun as the clouds recede.
A feat of engineering unmatched, no number of hands
can compete with eight hairy legs.
Stronger than steel, as flexible as a feather
Beautiful and meticulous despite being a deception intended for death.
The ultimate disparity.

What went so wrong in your life
to justify taking what is not yours?
If you sincerely needed help and took the time to ask,
help would come. But you insist on strife.
It is you that I truly abhor.
You insist upon waging war
and I can assure that I am eager for battle.
But I promise you, and it is such an easy task,
return my property, my wings, my joy and
your life may be restored. A full pardon.
You are depraved, odious, and vile
are you ready to fight?

Feeling its eyes follow you as you walk alone at night,
descend down into the dark dank corners of the basement,
and leap into bed as the shadows slowly swallow it.
You are not sure which is more chilling
It or the unknown.

But what difference does that make?
It waits to catch you off guard before it pounces
leaving you just as puzzled as before, although now you know it is there.

-AM

On a muggy August afternoon with the Sun piercing down,
burning skin, roasting the dry calloused ground, and withering the thirsty thistles, a line of fruit trees fight the day.

Apple and pear, mulberry and cherry
Their blossoms long faded but delivering cool contrast to the summer.
Together a family walks along looking up, shaking branches, and laughing. The
children scurry along chasing each other with stained fingers and lips
as they enjoy what has fallen.
Trailing them are the parents and grandparent carrying pales,
filling them with the sweet sticky fruit, occasionally sneaking some for themselves.

Together, circling two buckets, everyone joins in and pits the cherries.
A long and tedious job but time gets lost among stories and memories.

Puckered lips and squeals of satisfaction fill the sweltering kitchen
as the family bites into the fresh pie filled with a long days play, work, and love.

-AM

Morning.
The unrelenting chill of Minnesota,
slowly getting warmer
as the sun rises.
I see my mother’s uncomfortable smile
as my father breaks the peace and quiet
in an effort to capture the moment.

She prepares breakfast
to give them strength for the journey ahead,
both looking forward
to the day’s travels.

By car by canoe,
It does not matter.
What matters is the present;
sausage, eggs
and each other’s eager smile.

The freedom of camping,
the isolation from society
what a relaxing effect.
Having no reason to hurry
they savor the moment.

They have shown me the same moment,
taught me to enjoy the crisp cold,
taught me to drive and to paddle
and have taught me to love;
to love my family and to love my world.

-AM

Life is like an old car tire,
leaving a piece of it behind
wherever it goes.
When it encounters a speed bump,
it slows.
As it hits a *** hole,
it breaks down.
Conditions may get rough
and the tire may pop,
but it can be inflated.
Be inflated and travel further,
touch more people and leave more behind.
As the journey progresses,
the tread thins
preparing itself to be replaced;
by another tire

-AM