Light rising—
Covers in a feathered sheet
As the news of bright birds,
Flash and colour, the palms
Of leaves, are beading with
Peaking sun.  I hear you stir
As I roll, so much language
In silences, so many hearts
In blended breaths, when
We are blanketed solely
In rich golden rays
Of birthing days
Dawning.

I was raised being told to respect my elders,
But they only ever called me a punk growing up.
They said they raised us to one day give us the world.
Gave us what? Cities of ****, dry lakes and burning rust?
A generation of parents, so worried about taking care of their kids,
They destroyed the world so they wouldn't go outside. Mother's Envy.
They told me to pay attention in school,
And taught me that I didn't fit,
Never how to find a job, but certainly how to quit.

When your generation was growing up?
I don’t want to hear about your generation.
The generation that cared more about what created the world,
Than how to keep it alive?

A drunken stepfather blamed by his son,
In turn blaming his own father for the reasons his son hates him.

You want your kids to behave a certain way? Don’t force them.
Explain to them the effect and the cause.
Guide them, not govern them.
Accept and love them, they have your flaws.

Don’t forget that you would rather be rich and your enemy richer
Than to be blind in one eye so he will be in both.

I won’t use your generation as a scapegoat.
Today I am here to stop this cycle.
No, you will not be my excuse.

I will stand up and give a voice to the voiceless.
Run, walk and crawl for the crippled.
Find a cure for our parent's cancer.
Pay for our broken homes, flooding with bills.
Will break my back to farm for those without food
Who starve in our valleys, our plains, our hills.

But I beg.
Just please, oh Mother.
Don't force me to ****.
Because if I have to dear Father,

You know that I will...

Water nymph, you are the gentle wind
Bursting the daisy, your eyes, are bells
Of blue echinacea spiriting the light—
Echoing sound which water makes, ring
The laureled forest leaves in cathedrals
Newly sprung of pews, meadows, spark,
The dance of bees, who trace your honey
Scent in combs of ambrosia and sunshine.
The miraculous waters are floored under
Your white, lily petals of feet, your nests
Of hair are embracing tendrils of the wild
Grape, wine and sweet, long forgetfulness.
Maid of the wood, daughter to the moon;
Are you of Elysium or temptress of doom?

There is no threshold  .  .  .
Lines between earth and heaven,
When is shrub a tree?

Rain falls in garden,
Little drops of tawny warmth,
A downpour of birds.

Haze of cloud, light rain dropping cauls—
And nowhere is betraying sun to be seen,
Drowned streets, are pathways of shawl,
Low scapes of shun— wind caries a keen.

i curl into your back and you wear me
like armor into your dreams.

under your hands i turn to water
or iron and then you bend me again.

you say you knew it from the first when
the space between us bit its tongue.

i didn't know it though i ground my teeth
down that night under your name

and spat out all others in my sleep.
i didn't know single-mindedness

til you packed your suitcase and placed
it against mine outside the door.

i didn't know that it could be like this.
a reflection caught by the tail

of you watching me and i see more.
for you i am more. i have to be.

Like a blind date on wedding night,
You came before me once again.
This time, you said you loved me...

We drove and talked, you smiled
And told me everything I needed to hear.
Not what I wanted to, but what I needed.

You're changing, and I like it.

Ride with me once again,
Until the red wine is gone
and sweet nothings are said.

I admit I still love you too.
Yes, we can start over again...

Snow covers valley—
Solitary raven staining world,
Love has turned black.

Mute mobile feelings,
Tracing blue lights of handhelds,
New ways to miss love.