There is so much value
In asking people
To put something down
Anything-
Whatever they can think of-
Because that's creation.

That's where ideas and feelings
get synthesized
organized
alphabetized
aestheticized.

It's a spiritual go-to-town.
A lovely go-around.
So we gotta offer it.
We gotta!

Because otherwise
we create the undead.

It's supplies, and time, and not just
"look at a painting".
It's make someone feel what you feel.
Empowering, Cathartic, Adventurous.
It's a really really big deal.

Click
The magic of that line-
Drawn in crayon-
Calms and excites:
Renders everything else
Meaningless and Infinitely Consequential.
Up* I go
In a swift motion-
to float there,
high,
where meaning and representation
are transcendental.
Only to drift back down,
Gently, rhythmically,
Like a fat, fluffy feather
In a barn stall full
Of day old chicks.
A soft yellow glow,
Sleepily chirping.

You left
A bruise.
Purple,
on my
inner thigh.

I stand
Maybe four years old
At the top of a neighbour's

basement stairs
the dark chasm below my little toes,

Having been told,
"Don't go down there today."
When I hear from the depths
my name is being called--

I got molested in that basement.
On that very day.

How do we teach children
to be curious
when adults

will act out their
own hurts on them?

How do we teach adolescents
that some risk is a sign
of intelligence?

That risks have different species?

How do I teach myself
not to project
those basement stairs

Like an old vacation photo:
faint light onto their bored faces?

*

Do we let our shock moments
sleep like male lions
only to feed in the dark
on that night's hunt,
conducted by our conscious selves?

In daylight, are we
oblivious to how it feeds on our progress?
Or do we wake the beast up?
The sooner, the more complete
the recovery?

Have you ever tried
to wake a sleeping lion
on a hot summer day
at the zoo?

It is not easily done,
without bait.

Don't Confess
For fear I might leave.
Don't Confess
And I might.

Don't Confess
And we cannot forgive you.
Don't Confess
And I won't know why.

You don't confess
because the timing wasn't right.
And now the wondering
has kept me up all night.

When it comes to human beings
There is no such thing as a lost cause.

There is such thing
as a human being
which is not my
burden to bear
anymore.

I'm giving myself total permission
To let go of you.
And that means writing you
poems too.