a  harrowing time takes two wings and you watch this stymphalian bird take to the skies

its trajectory past the trade posts and into town to eat sick and
to gore on the elderly and the poor, teeth tearing flesh

it only a matter of time before you see its true terror

send it back to the robber barons
                                   tear it this behemoth of a bill
feed the poor and the helpless
                                  take care of the sickly and the old
send this bill back to the robber barons
                                   send its letters dark & black back to the inkwell
protect our public lands and our natural gems from sale
                                   say no to these robber barons
say "no" say "no more, robber barons! "

geez, i cannot see a road to you. every time
i took to it, knocked on your door, the flood came,

and after i garnered the courage to take the same
path, a wildfire in your eyes broke out.

the third time i tried, time became an earthquake
ravaging through the city of my life.

everything shook, burned, and inundated. now
i cannot take any more ground failures

and disappearing roads. you are there, and i am here,
and there is a respective sea

of silence in-between us,  even though i do love you,
i stand in front of a landslide, muddied and hurt

me listening to Jesse Welles and crying is my new vibe,

crying because i'm sad, crying because I'm moved, crying--

my round full cheeks have given way
to hollows that reveal my grandmother’s cheekbones

my hair curls and no longer waves
to hint at my fathers curls

And in my coastal home town  the sun has consistently appeared through every season bringing back a slight clustering of freckles over the bridge of my nose with an array of recent sun spots over my upper lip and at my temples

My left wisdom tooth against all odds decided to exit in my thirties and push my teeth forward; I have a different smile now

while a new circular mole has appeared under my right eye. naturally I begin to look like someone different. Don’t know if  my body is a new temple breaking from the past or if it’s honoring it by stitching me closer to those that came before

I like the quiet way that life yields itself to its own tongue or torso tripping on its own soles when it hits a sidewalk
how clumsy can be poetic and you can laugh even after you fall as long as you are in good company

you walk
no matter the direction
this dream
      never changes much
they put their foreheads
to yours And smile

in some they are wolves
that sleep at your side

in others travelers
that gather
with you in the forest

in others they
   point toward a tiger
lurking in your chest

you walk
        and they protect
nothing is wild

        (not even a dream)