you know what's amazing?

we are just a tiny rock which is one of many
rocks orbiting around
a ball of gas which is
one of many ***** of gas in a
galaxy which is one of many
galaxies in a
cluster of galaxies of many
clusters of galaxies in a
universe which may be one of
many universes...

and we have only made it as far as our humble moon...

...

you know what's amazing?

we've evolved from tiny
bacteria to tiny
human beings comprised of
trillions of cells comprised of
trillions of atoms.
we are quite simply,
bluntly,
truthfully,
magical.

And with all this magic, we've managed to
make it to the moon.
viewing,
not atoms or
cells or even
individuals,
but our perfect,
piece of rock...

our heavenly Earth.

maybe life is measured in something bigger than size.

through the snow
through the sleet
the hail the fog the wind,
outpours the stack
of choke- worthy smoke.
beneath,
the tug boat
with nothing to haul.
forcing and
chugging with it's head down
through the black
syrupy waters.
using only the friendly stars
as a guide
(when they're not covered by the passing hurricane)
the boat
or small ship
pushes north

toward something

the game is in the trenches.
bullets wizz by
making us afraid to stand and
walk out of our mud-hole
our filth hole.

... to stand

we might get torn to bits.
or, upon our walk across the green of the battlefield,
we might find the true happiness.
we might look the shooter in in the eye
and he will elect not to fire.
we might be the ender of the war,
the influential tinkerer of history.

... or, we might get torn to bits...

so in the name of fear,
we stay in our hovel.
and the blood and mud
and stench
stay with us.

lay on back
in mountain meadow.
crisp air embraces.
milky way
spills overhead.
wind through fur trees
calms.
magic courses through veins.
life shakes off it's mask.
gears in clocks ice over.
the last cover closes.
new story begins.
darkness is cut.
piercing light
warms.
one
almost
feels
the
world
rumble
underneath.

lounges

on the
lawn.

as i
run

my fingers
through

jet- black
curls

on an
old belly,

i know
the warmth

comes not
from

soaked up
sunlight

but from
love.

lots of
love.

i want to be a black dog when i grow up.