In school
Looking through our literature book
At the poetry selections
I always liked the ones by
Carl Sandburg
Because they looked and read
The least like poetry
I didn't like poetry back then
With it's sing song meters and
Pregnant metaphors
I was just a kid
I like poetry a lot more now
Though I don't understand too much
I know enough to think a lot less of
Carl Sandburg now than I did then
Which is no reflection on Sandburg
I'm sure I'll eventually come back round to him

And yet joy still is elusive
For all the cruel thoughts subjugated
Hatefulness controlled
My mind is still not conditioned
To feel that joy again
It's been too long

Joy comes
A moment seems forever
Until you pass out of it
You know you can't endure that joy
For long
You want to cling to it's sweet caress
Even as you feel sanity slipping, sliding
Into visions of heaven, God and Spirit
Joy and Despair, rising and falling
Never knowing how long
How long to sing this song
How long the wait
How long until joy breaks through
Like the sun on a grey cloudy day
Threatening rain
Promising nothing
Only the slightest glimpse of hope
And a prayer that next time
The moment will last
Just a little bit
Longer
Than
Forever

she told me
"i don't use hashtags"
so i told her "come with me"
and i took her to a church in the fields
where my grandfather served as deacon
i told her "get on the phone
call a priest
i'm going to make you mine"
i never use hashtags
her body turned me on
her mind kept me running
"the priest can't make it until tomorrow"
**** the luck

I want to enter into your suffering
Be a part of the controversy
I've felt the wind guide me
Into the fibers of your body
My blunted mind still sharp enough
To recognize the truth
Though I recoil
I feel the pain when you are insulted
I am ashamed when the world lines up
To spit in your face
I want to take that abuse with you
I want to be a martyr for the cause
Together recognizing
The absolute
As one in the journey
To becoming
Returning
Being

Starlight freckle the open night sky
Some famous classical composer's work is on the radio
It sounds intricate and elaborate
I've heard it before but I can't
Remember his name
A good soundtrack for reckoning
As my Ambien helps usher me off to sleep
Who is gonna remember my name
I haven't even written a symphony
And I know I never will
I'm not half as proud as you think I am
Sitting cross-legged and naked beneath the moon
I love being alone in the cold air and darkness
What do I really know?
You know what they say about opinions
There's just enough truth in every one to make a sale, to seal the deal
I'm no writer, I'm no poet
Don't think for a moment
That I don't know it
But I share these night visions with you
I call it poetry sometimes
For lack of a better word
I of all people know
If I moved a mountain and made you think twice
Or made you think, "aha, yes, that's just the way it is"
It wasn't me except as a channel
For the one who brings on
Such universal agreement
The only absolute
You know it's name
Whether you will speak it or not
Determines many things