Tell me who can
Catch a toucan?
Lou can.

Just how few can
Ride the toucan?
Two can.

What kind of goo can
Stick you to the toucan?
Glue can.

Who can write some
More about the toucan?
You can!

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.

I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.

Oh, I'm being eaten
By a boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor,
And I don't like it--one bit.
Well, what do you know?
It's nibblin' my toe.
Oh, gee,
It's up to my knee.
Oh my,
It's up to my thigh.
Oh, fiddle,
It's up to my middle.
Oh, heck,
It's up to my neck.
Oh, dread,
It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff . . .

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

The mind, the soul, the heart
sometimes craves
another part
the reverse imprint
of
a smile, a touch
that shows up
from the inside
sometimes in long drawn out
                      chain of circles
sometimes in the quickest
                  feather patterns
just touching in the lightest brush
the slightest echoes of the soul
Sometimes in an unexpected rush
                 like tidal oceans' flow
it's like a missing puzzle piece
it's like playing
          hide and seek
we are searching for a fit
we are searching for that shape
We are hoping
          as we run and search
from room to room
to soothe that inner ache
and in my dreams I'm playing tag
                    from my grasp slips
                                       whoever's "it"
playing endless hide and seek
straining at the bit
and it should be all fun and games
It should hold adventure true
but the only game is pain
and I emerge
quite black and blue
for hours and hours in the maze
hiding my true self
hoping to be found
for the glacier to be melt
with heated words that make no sound
and loving knowing eyes
                that penetrate through layers
   that look upon me, wise
No need to talk
or even think
no conversation needed
just a true connection
a bond
a communication completed

The truth is all there
  right beneath our skin
ready to be bared
it's surface, rice-paper thin
I have been way too long
in this murky room
always playing in the dark
sitting in the dusty, shadow gloom
and now a river's running through
the hallways of my heart
furniture is floating
walls just break apart
So if you find me, now
In this game of hide and seek
know my heart is now open
to the raging cosmic beat
run with me, if you dare
through that sparkling darkened door
My spirit-love is freed
and I couldn't
ask for more

As the roof crashes down
and comets fly above my head
as I run through all the chambers
dodge spinning  tables, chairs and beds

I crash through the door and draw
my sword
for I will keep up my fight
      for vitality to keep surging
through my soul
as I leap into electric
light