Embracing the hope of an old fool
don't make much sense to the modern day.
how can you walk on streets
with soles of your bare feet
looking for ground on a paved way?

Do you not think much of the media?
Don't you know that their thoughts are hallowed ground?
Would you dare tear down all the golden calfs
to make room for God in the hearts of men?

Well keep your heart out of my hole.
keep your thoughts out of my school.
keep your art out of my show.

…you're a dying breed, you're a modern fool.

Well can I dare hold my arms out?
Can I dare speak love and for peace of all?
Or does all of this praise and my child-like faith
offend even the strongest of your ranks?

Would you ban my race from the radio
and take off all of my visage from your door?
Can you not take it when you can feel the grace
dripping from the words and coming through your walls?

I want my heart where you are
I'll put my art in your show
I'll put my thoughts in your school
I'm a dying breed, I'm a modern fool

the river flows swift
flanked by mossy monoliths
a single yell, splash

I had a dream today about a piano. There were people there, and they stood over me as I tried to play, but the keys were all seamed and crumbling through my fumbling fingers.

You'll figure it out, they said, in this perfectly round place where piano keys are divided by metal barriers and the music doesn't carry and the strangers just stand and stare at you as you curse your muse. I was finally pushed aside, for the love of god make room for someone else to try.  

We lined up against the wall, then, a reasonless jump in that swirling universe of dream logic. It was wooden, the wall, I remember because the color reminded me of the deep hooded metal stove in the old cedar house where I learned that a scraped knee isn't as much an ouch as a trophy. We stood there along the wall for a time that was neither day nor night, and no one spoke.

And then I awoke.

A plant grew in a forest
beginning as a sapling in a crowded opening
two inches tall
with no idea of what it was becoming
it rose slowly
but consistently
as others rose above it for light
it reaped the benefits of leftovers
this plant grew
not to be the tallest
not to be the prettiest
but it grew
It took in carbon dioxide
and released oxygen
it did its job
it was a good plant


eventually like most things this plant died
after being trampled by a young boy
this boy visited this forest everyday
its nature was his greatest toy
he knew the surroundings by heart
from the tallest tree to the smallest shrew
he saw all in his dreams
he knew all the plants save for a few
one of those few was our plant
although it stood tall, it was not tall enough
although it was pretty, it was not pretty enough
it died unremarkable
it was a good plant
it did its job
but it died without a trace
because it never risked to take another's place


and so the boy grew older
he left the forest for an office
in the hopes that one day
he’d be rich enough to return
so he climbed the ladder
and said all the right things
he was a good man
he did his job
until he met a girl
a girl so powerful
so unmistakably perfect
he had to rise above the others
he left his job because he hated it
he stood tall to reach the sun
he took risks not because he had to
but because he wanted to


this man died poor
he did not succeed
there was no beverly hills
no millionaire mansion down the street
this man never climbed that corporate ladder
never got lost in the rat race
never missed the birth of his son
never broke a promise to that boy
he took a risk he shouldn’t have
an unnecessary leap of faith
he looked back on his past
the trouble he left in his wake
he remembered that plant
the one he didn’t see
the reason he is who he is
the man who became a tree


take risks because you should
because one day you will die
buried under dirt
while your life has passed you by
life is too short
too precious
to be a good man
to just do your job

It was the winter of my life
When I met you
You were my only summer
And probably the only reason why I made it
Maybe that’s why I miss you so
Even now
I’m sorry for pushing you away
And I’m sorry you’re so bitter about it now
Just know
You saved me
From myself

That whose nature is Nature
is That whose existence alone Is
unimaginably imaginal