Here is a glass of water from my well.
It tastes of rock and root and earth and rain;
It is the best I have, my only spell,
And it is cold, and better than champagne.
Perhaps someone will pass this house one day
To drink, and be restored, and go his way,
Someone in dark confusion as I was
When I drank down cold water in a glass,
Drank a transparent health to keep me sane,
After the bitter mood had gone again.

I think I love,
Not finishing my thoughts
The ones that lead to doorways
White doorways
With wood grain imprints
And a shiny gold door ****
Cold to the touch
I think I love
Not speaking my mind
When I should
When it's cold
And I'm warm
But it's crazy
All at once
I think I love
Incomplete thoughts
The ones that leave you hanging
Like the bandit
With the dusty eye patch
Hanging loosely
From that oak tree
Out my window
That makes me think
That I...
Well...
You...

Atropos, dread
One of the Three,
Holding the thread
Woven for me;

Grimly thy shears,
Steely and bright,
Menace the years
Left for delight.

Grant it may chance,
Just as they close,
June may entrance
Earth with the rose;

Reigning as though,
Bliss to the breath,
Endless and no
Whisper of death.

they're in here
all inside
butterflies
crows
sparrows
flutter against my ribcage
like it's a prison wall or something
but it's just my humanity
not a jail cell
but they flutter, flit, spiral, fly
like they're trapped
it's not a true prison
they could escape
float and spread outside
somewhere beyond me
but I trap them
keep them trapped
deep in my center
afraid to let them out
fully free them
afraid of what others will think
they'll judge
I know they will
so, fearfully I keep them
"protect" them
I say
protection is another word for
oppression
but, protection sounds better
so, they're protected
deep inside the core and center
of me
amy thinks she knows me
jill thinks I'm a straight and narrow chick
kathy's sure I'm that certain type
but
the wild, flying beasts
deep, deep inside
are olive, scarlet, black, pear
earthy, volatile, scattered, rare
ever so rare
and hidden
hide, I feel I must
until
one
breaks
through
the wall I've worked so hard to build
inevitable
inevitably
one will
escape
free

I want to drive off into the horizon,
I want to disappear into the sky.
I want to drown myself in the clouds,
I want to see if I can fly.

I want to soar with the eagles,
their spirit I admire.
I want to be guided by angels,
I want to feel my soul on fire.

I want not to get lost in slumber,
I want to drift off in wonder.
I want to let go of the night,
I want to hold on to the light.

I want to hold my head up high,
I want to speak with pride.
I want not to dwell on regrets and sigh,
I want fulfillment on my side.

As I look at the vast majesty above,
I want to think only about beautiful love.

54

If I should die,
And you should live—
And time should gurgle on—
And morn should beam—
And noon should burn—
As it has usual done—
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie—
That Commerce will continue—
And Trades as briskly fly—
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene—
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

Words were meant to be spoken
Words were meant to be written
But I ain't got an indication
Of the words you want to hear me spittin'

'The time has come,' the Preacher said,
'to speak of many things
Of talking snakes and ****** births
and golden angel wings
And why Perdition’s fire is hot
and whether Christ is King...'

'Hold on a sec' the poet said,
'Before we sort this mess
I think I need an hour or so
to chill and convalesce'
'Take your time' the preacher said,
'Tomorrow will be fine'
The poet thanked him kindly
and then poured a glass of wine

And then he poured another
and another and six more
But soon the flask was empty
and he stretched out on the floor
He looked up at the preacher
and in garbled words he said:
'I think I'd rather talk
about reality instead'