Nature is, what you are not.
It’s fires swallow up forests;
so new life can bloom again,
while the ocean will take back beaches;
when land grows too greedy.
River waters rush and churn,
so only the strong can grow
with the power of evolution.
You burn so soft,
as not to wake the dark, but,
your fire will wither out,
for faint flames-
stand no chance against the wind.
You won’t move forward,
yet you won’t move back,
for fear of rocking the boat.
I say,
let the waters rise,
burn through the weak,
and I will rock this **** ship.
I say,
let's take a swim,
and let the water flip and carry us away;
for you won’t get far on the shore.
I sit and let the storms rage on,
for I’m a tornado of my own.
I just hope you’ll learn that peace,
doesn’t always get the job done.
Take a risk,
rock this **** canoe
and you’ll finally find how to breath.

Sincerely yours,
Raging Fire

Amelia wore a yellow slicker raincoat,
rain or shine, Every day without fail
And her smile was almost as bright as that
But not quite.

Amelia took off the raincoat in the seventh grade, when
a boy said she looked like a duckling,
"the ugly duckling". They laughed, but her?
Not quite.

Tenth grade rolls around. The raincoat is
collecting dust in the very back of a closet filled to the brim
with clothes no one could say were an ugly duckling's feathers.
First day of school, and it begins to rain. Pour, even.
But not quite.

Amelia is in a rush. She grabs the first raincoat she sees,
the ugly duckling yellow slicker. She
begins to cry, and her tears are almost
blending in with the rain.
But not quite.

with no other choice, she wears her feathers.
she expects laughter, and pointed fingers
but she is met with the same smiles as
she always was.
"Cute raincoat, Amelia!"
And she begins to smile, almost as wide as she did
when she was an innocent duckling.
But not quite.

For Amelia, who found her wings
in an old yellow slicker raincoat,
smiled wider.

We do not burn books in America
We just ignore them, for we light our nights
And burn away our individual souls
Upon an altar green, clean plastic grass

Come together as one unto the lights
The concept of the tablets now writ large
An electronic scoreboard – and if we’re good
We’ll see our snaggly grins all ten feet tall

Eighty-thousand dollars of education
Beaming civilization six nights each year

All that’s left of him is a picture frame, once looked at over the armchair as coffee brews.
A bar of soap, bought for him in the winter as we slombered along to the dull sound of static.
His watch, worn day in and day out, as his world started and stopped with that watch.
And a small bag that held love letters before those who wrote them claimed them in the estate sale.

There they sit in the cold dark night. Lonely and forgotten. The aftermath of a war, and a fight he lost. And all I can hear in the darkness, is the slow ticking of that watch.

Love is a mending of two hearts
I am a forest fire,
a rickety fan that will never run quite right,
a cup of coffee that warms your soul.

I burn too bright, but fade too fast.
I crave a different tune to which nobody knows.

I want,
No I need,
a steady hum to learn to beat next to,
to walk side by side as equals.

I want to burn in passion, but I need
to breath slowly as we lay in a sheet of knowledge.

I want an outreached arm, but I need
a mountain of freedom to climb.
I want to fit perfectly, but I need
to fit as crookedly as bent spoons.

Give me strength but don’t take away my essence.
Let me be free, but be free with me.
Find my heart but only touch it.