The reflecting pool lay long and flat, a massive mirror door...
I stepped up to it's concrete edge, and looked down to it's floor.
I saw pale tiles beneath the water, some pennies, a dime, a nail.
I dropped my thoughts beneath this sea, which quickly grew in scale.

One foot of water became, thus, ten... A hundred... thousand... more.
My view was that of one who's soaring many miles above some shore.
I was, at once, consumed with fear at how this made me feel,
That is to say, I convinced myself that this height was truly real.

That was when I dreamed I fell, but before I'd be no more,
I had much time to think awhile on what had come before.
I had much time to regret the past, and dread what was yet to be,
Saw images of fortune, ruin, the dust of you; the ashes of me.

Small joys helped to bridge the gaps where fear eroded hope,
The terror of  my empty room, the makeshift hanging rope.
My thoughts of death reminded me that the moment should be much more,
I opened my eyes to the rushing air, my throat felt raw and sore,
Looked down to see a blaze of leaves and the fast approaching forest floor.

Asleep, I fell, through sunlit leaves that seemed to fill the space,
Awake, I stood beside the pool when you had touched my face.
Something in your eyes was telling me you were concerned,
You somehow knew the man who left was not the man who returned.

We stood at the shore then, you and I, expressing futures yet to pass,
Fishing out mythologies and illusions that might last.
Our mouths were full of histories and secrets that we bared,
The reassuring comfort that illusions can be shared.

Look east and see the brightening sky, but not yet see the sun,
Look west and see the shrinking black,
The place where last night's stars have run.

Look up and see the limbs and leaves of the high forest canopy,
The ones above the gloom that's half obscuring you and me...
A bright gold glow suffuses them, but only way up high,
Where they already see the dawn, and the guiding star that fills their sky.

I'm reminded by these tall trees rising high into the air,
When shadow darkens my small world, but light is everywhere,
You do not need to see the sun to know that it is there.

So as I lifted up my face,
To where sunlight paints the highest tree,
In this expansive time and place,
I felt the same; beautiful and free.

his dream was always of a cart, carrying
limbs like those in so many slaughter houses
dragged along by two oxen, blind, backs whipped
by a golem whose red eyes illuminated
the path, the cart's carrion, and even
the black sky

when he would awake, he would feel
ravenous, not sated by his breakfast mush
or his noon repast--only when he sat for dinner
would he be full, after he drowned himself in wine, and gorged himself on a feast of flesh, charred yet
dripping with blood

the same sanguine soup, perchance,
he saw flowing from the wagon of his dreams,
the same as the crimson ooze from the humps of
the beaten beasts who transported
the ghoulish cargo to some crypt
in the greedy earth

to someplace he longed to see and
to be, in the dream, the one from which
he would awake with such perverse
hunger for life

i've spent a lot of time on this planet
watching these creatures who inhabit
they say god made it, and it's granted
god won't be the one to **** it

for every gun there's someone to man it
flies with barrels aimed at maggots
they build a fire, then they fan it
flames pull them in like a magnet

they **** each other, and they even plan it
on this planet where i have landed
mankind are the ones wreaking havoc
it's hard for me to understand it

Nomad ,
a wanderer ,
never remaining static .

One at home
with their environment .

At peace with their creator .
Probably made
from shooting stars .

While the trees sleep,
I lie awake. Eyes wide open.
My body is whole,
My soul is broken.

My precious son
that I prayed be born,
Is now gone;
I feel cheated…forlorn.

Good memories race through my mind;
His smile, his embrace;
He was so kind!
God took him away,
Was it really time?

He’s happy in heaven,
but I’m not fine.
Here on earth my heart still breaks
for my only son and his loving embrace.

God give me strength to live through this,
And for others who’ve lost children,
Please give them bliss.
No parent should have to endure this.

When you sing
                                                                ­                           I cry

When as stars you shine
                                                                                    I wonder
                                                                ­                   and sigh
                                                            ­          
You live in the hollow
                         of my moon

               eating my shrooms

You glitter bright
                                   
               to my arms delight

Your comet eyes

Milky way smile

Star cluster hair

Nebulous wiles
                                                  
and cares

Have caught me intentionally
                                                   ­   unaware

frogs "croaking"
in front of me, in the reeds
crickets "chirping"
behind me, in the brush
countless coyotes "yelping"
from across the lake
bass, carp surfacing
under a yellow moon
unaware its shimmering shaft’s
a magnet to my eye  
and more lullaby to me,
who can yet see spectral waves
but lost cherished vibrations--like birdsong,
winsome whispers--eons ago

no bison on the menu
at the Buffalo; this diner
never served it  

Big Mike, long gone
named it for the high shelf  
on the prairie behind it  

where Lakota learned
to stampede beasts over the edge, massacring
hordes without bow or sweat

the gully below,
their forgotten bone yard,
left little trace of them

save half a skull
Mike exhumed and hung on the wall
in the time of polio

before the wide whizzing interstates
when truckers still landed on his dusty lot  
their rolling behemoths content in pasture

in a new millennium, the cafe highway is but
an accidental detour; the shack guarded by thistles,
long departed the Detroit steel

the truckers now in the ground, their bones
free from pillage, but the Cyclops on the wall remains,
eyeing the vacant prairie they all once roamed

white winged water walker
filled my dreamy head
sliding, gliding on shimmering glass
far from my land locked bed

once a child and filled with awe
my visions shamelessly bold
a water walker I would be
and straw could turn to gold

but spinning orbs wash one with age
and weight one's wings with years
flights of endless prowess
are grounded by groundless fears

yet when blind night blocks the light
and one's mind is free to explore
childhood's chirping vision
is again allowed to soar

If you were granted the gift of temporary flight...

     Would you ascend...
          Just so you could feast your eyes
          on the horizon,
          beyond the confines of weather-worn tiles
          set upon unsuspecting rooftops.

     Would you take soar...
          Just so you could briefly leave the ground
          below.
          And as the land beneath you diminishes,
          all that's you tethered to your earth
          almost instantly would turn into nothing
          but specks of insignificance.

     Would you fly free...
          Just so your heart could entertain the possibility
          of being ensnared by the breathtaking
          view of the sun,
          as it rests its pompous girth upon its bed of
          clouds;
          Like a bratty king sprawled over lavish sheets.

     Would you burst through the boundary...
          That separates heaven and earth.
          Just so you could be bewitched by the full blown
          moon,
          be enthralled by the siren calls of the stars,
          and be a part of the spectacle that is the
          universe...

If you were granted the gift of momentary flight...

     Would you still ascend?
          Knowing full well that soon gravity would claim
          you with less than no pity nor remorse.
          And all that you had complacently forsaken...
          Will greet you with the harshest of punishments.



                    *I would.

5 am you woke me up, to meditate.

I thought someone had died, someone had, me.

It was the ultimate time, you said.

Looking down, I had to disagree.

Can you feel the energy, she said.

I can’t feel myself, go away.

This is a window of opportunity she said.

There was a window.

Let us breathe she said.

This had never happened before, nutcase  came to mind.

What is your mantra she said.

What is my name I said.

No, you have to reach out, draw in the energy.

I am going to reach out, it won’t be pretty.

Let me take you on a journey, join me.

I’ll phone you a taxi, blast, it’s your house, I’ll phone me a taxi.

If we connect the *** will be out of this world.

Okay, through the delirium I heard the S word

Mmmm feel it, Mmmm, feel it, Mmmm, can you feel it.

I can definitely feel something.

It’s getting stronger, we are one.

We definitely are.

We must connect.

We definitely must.

Before my husband comes off the nightshift.

Thought I heard the H word there.

Let us be one.

Let us wind back to the husband.

He is but a component in time.

What time does this component come home at.

Six, but it’s okay, he’s gay.

Thought I heard the G word there.

He likes to join in, which can be a pain.

When you say join in, what do you mean.

In the mantra, he likes to join in in the mantra.