in my revenge daydream
You write an essay to the teacher about how wrong it is to be wrong and how doubly wrong it is to wrong someone like me and for your third point you challenge Buddha to be more enlightened than you are since you learned you were wrong

in my revenge daydream
You have crumpled to your knees on the far edge of the field you were fleeing across to be free of the look in my eyes - there is grass in your hair and a growing pool of mud beneath your eyes

in my revenge daydream
I had a fist cocked and a boot in tow just so I could hurt you and oh how I wanted to until a far away scream caused us both to be the same

I put my shoes on the wrong feet and had to dance everywhere I went.

I dropped the world and everyone jumped higher than ever before.

I tripped the cord and brought down the lights across the globe. People learned to feel their way around each other, laughing like a game of tag.

I spilled my coffee and the animals of the world lapped it off each other like a surprise treat from the universe.

I lost my keys and had to sleep in a different house every night, piling up friends like bangle bracelets.

Once I did everything right and the world went about its business as if this were normal.

Give me more beer til before I get sad
Give me a bottle of smiles I can keep
Give me a reason for tying my shoes
But don’t give me lip today.

Sing me your sad lullaby after dark
Whisper your best secret under the moon
Shout me your argument until I go deaf
But don’t ask me how it’s goin’.

Paint me the reasons that small children laugh
Draw me a map to “what if it’s true”?
Color my Mondays and make them be late
But don’t write my definition.

Kiss me sweet kisses til I’m drunk with love
Un-tether my bad dreams so they float away
Carry my half finished thoughts in a jar
But don’t hold me carelessly.

Old Leviathan, from what depths have you come?

You, thought to be long gone from existence, have surfaced in a terrible storm of lightning and screaming crashes.

Is it punishment for complacency? Perhaps I have ignored your announcements too long. You have come without so much as a SAVE THE DATE notice.

I’m *******.

I breathe in ancient rhythm ways,
Aware of gazing at the same moon as the first man.

Raw power trailed from its creation as the earth cooled.

Were the stirrings the same when the world grew dark and nocturnal creatures roamed?

I am primal, subdued and powered down.

Sometimes when I rush past, it catches my sleeve and yanks me back, threatening to unleash a pressurized yearning.

Then it passes and I find my jet stream again.

When I can spare the cost of the indulgence, I sit alone in the night and watch my chest rise and fall with the first man.

It looks like I’m soaring
Riding the updraft of traffic below
Never going up..just incrementally gliding down

But I’m in a slow-motion flat-spin
The only control coming from gravity and momentum
I’m not scared or frantic
Just observing, knowing I should be feeling more

I am trying to live with my faith
Not gone and not here

I long for passion that would force me from my trance
Of swirling
The passion of a fierce fight
Of hungry ***
Of unexpected joy

But there is no color or music
There is no scent; floral or putrid
I miss the smell of God
My God

Deep, dark, thick tar on my heart.
I drink water to wash it away,
Yet it clings like sticky stubbornness.
I pray to rid myself of it, but it knows my name and will not leave.
It whispers to me when I long for stillness.
It is elusive when I search for it to cut it out.

It knows me and yet I cannot name it.
We are familiar, but it controls.
Like a parasite, it feeds.
It bites at me- provoking, leaving little marks.

Am I not able to be cured from this heaviness?
Was I brought to this earth with a shadow in me?
I do not know how to dress with this, and present myself.
It is prickly and I poke at others out of frustration.
How is this Lightness?
I can’t let a ****** thing go.

I am scarred with hesitation marks.
I have to die to myself, and so I keep trying. But my will to live keeps winning.
This time, I close my eyes and determine to slice through my wrists.
Breathing hard and gritting my teeth, I go for it. This is right. I must die so He can live.
But again, something stops me and I leave only another nick in my skin. My will to live is strong. My will is strong.

These nicks are ugly. I am left alive and scarred. If I must live, I will need plastic surgery. Much easier.
Why can others do this and I can’t? I sit in silence and stare at the floor.
I tell Him I’m sorry that I cannot do it. I pretend the effort is enough, but I know it’s not true.
I cannot find the strength to overpower my own self.
Whispering defeat, I throw down the knife. It is hopeless. Each time I create more scar tissue, and it is tougher to cut.

He picks up the knife and puts it in my hand. He covers my hand with His and I feel the strength in it.
The slice is deep, complete and precise. In glorious light, He finally lives. I cry, at first from the pain and then from the beautiful release. It is finished.

I fall down, and through my shaking voice I cannot find the words to thank Him.
He lifts my head and looks at me, penetrating my being with His eyes. He speaks and my soul drinks deeply.
His voice is deep and strong as he says, “Same time tomorrow?”

I saw Death today. He was riding a bicycle.
And I was frozen there, struck by his casual confidence as he passed me. I could not stop my gaze, afraid his image would mark my eyes for him.
Further down, he faded into blur, past people task-busy, unaware that Death was near.
Finally I was released. I turned to walk to my own busyness, shaking my head to clear the slow-motion pull that held me.
A smile dared to start in relief that Death did not want me today. Two more steps and I felt the crunch of a busy bug under my foot.
Death and I are companions.

What is a shadow?
It copies me
It follows me
It knows my every move
It sits there while I'm writing this
Arm or leg?
With me, it's smooth
It knows my every twitch
Every shift, every slide
It copies me
It follows me
Unlike me, it will not die