The sky swirls like dust motes
As snow lifts and high floats
From mountaintops with sheer drops
And drifts go where the wind blows
The sun beats on cold streets
And birds gather in the blue sky
Silence save for the gulls cry
A sweet breeze through stiff knees
The cool wind on my dry skin
Sluffs away my cares from yesterday
And I'm (inhales)...ok

Stuck everywhere are secrets you've heard before.

Sometimes the things i have to say
don't escape past the tips of my teeth
because the rigid parts of me
are afraid to tie knots
that can only be
undone
with a knife.

We;
the generation
that forgot the meaning of memorable,
so keen on trade
as a means to claim
or apply value,
that this,
only this,
is seldom enough.

I used to think that pain was the most motivational thing i could feel,
but as I was bound to be taught,
told in blessings by
teachers
i was trying to
train,
it's either a lesson in love
or a lesson in release.

One step forward, three steps back.
The queue shuffles,
visible breath in the winter blue.
The vendor vends,
fingerless gloves clamp the steaming mug.
Grunts and groans alike,
the warmth fills the withered corpses pale.

A gaze is cast,
into the misty nothing that inhabits the park.
A twitter is heard amongst the frosty masts.

Eyes meet with a rufescent-chested bird.

These same eyes are then met with salt,
a sorrow, a pang of jealousy.
A sheer longing for that same freedom.

A black-haired, sharp-toothed preacher from behind pulpit
told the rose carpet congregation that if a child dies
before baptized, it will go to heaven.
As automatic as automatic.

I was six when I heard those words.
I pulled my invisible friend aside; gently broke, "Now for the end."
Why grow old only to spend an eternity in hell?

I walked through the yellowed pasture of grain.
To the brambles.
To the brambles brimming with what my mother called "poison berries."
"See ya in heaven."
I ate until my stomach churned with unrest.
"This is it."

15 years later,
I'm still waiting for the effect.