I understand my panther pal.
if we lock eyes
we never turn our backs
to each other,
yet even if I did
his cuteness would creep
into my nightmares;--;
a phantom of fuzz
and moonish green eyes.
fiendishly plucking my
arm hair with his claws.
rend my flesh asunder
by nightly tongue lashings.
. . . . . .
I understand my panther pal.

pierced by my own punctum
I'm the Tacitus of my times
scrawl from pen to page
scrawl from pen to page
. . .
seas of needles and crestin waves
the climate's been bound to change
climates been bound to change
I aint reachin for the needle no more
but needle still reachin for me
. . .
scrawl from pen to page
scrawl from pen to page
and I need water
ink been bound to dry
throat been bound to close
jaw been bound to lock
she's a cuckoo, but whose the clock?
she's a cuckoo, but whose the clock?
. . .

they took my hidey-hole
the ******* *******.
rolling up bass
thumpin to the groove
of a blunt rap.
h'rghroth's testament
to summer tours
and turnin up till four.
the land I love
the most
(....well,
maybe not quite that,
but something.)

let me encapsulate myself
in how many people I've ******
and who I am currently
*******.

I am a waxwing
feathered in snow
fat on juniper
with a wingspan 6 months long in either direction.
I sing the hollow bone electric
above the din of coyote
wolf pack on the hunt
... winter's whispers to bare branches.
there's no sun to sing to.
there never has been.
I will take flight, I will find it
6 months long
in either direction.

steppin in steppin out
both feet in the river
gotta make it down somehow
gonna sink or gonna swim down (2)
reach for moss if it's dry
pull myself out of it
take a better look around
gonna make it down somehow

I crave the short days.
trees with wide open arms.

drunk on townshend and happiness
I don't know if I will ever stop dancing

it hurts me to know that there are people who just seem to refuse beauty.  to chase it.  to stir passion, create something of value.  to chip away stones into sand if only to prove it can be done.  to be breaking waves.

clamorings, joyful
earth blossoming to the sun.
roots stretch sleepily.

I work with a guy a year younger than me
got two kids
and two jobs.
meanwhile all my money goes to
whitewater rafting and books
and ****
and paying for school.
one of them is two years old
the other four months
and he doesn't read.
probably doesn't go whitewater rafting
either.

I remember thinking I couldn't listen to Led Zeppelin anymore
when I discovered punk rock.
I'm glad I was wrong.
I used to worship Eddie Vedder
before I met Odin
(he's still a hero tho)
I used to not be a feminist.
I used to think I wasn't free to kiss whoever I wanted.
but I am.
I remember picking up the guitar the first time
totally ******* confused.
I wrote a song in a week and even then I thought it was crap.
now I'm three instruments and two hands deep in the
ocean of stringed music.
there's a moral to this
and it's easy to find.
but even if you can't
that's all right.

I hang on that eldest birch
last leaf of autumn asleep thru the winter
stuck with the spear of my stem in the branch
my root weakens
wind howl deafens
I will awaken dead in the spring

sitting down at the library
hunkered down where you can't see
buried deep inside another world
nose in a book a second life unfurled
give me a week and I'll come right back
a hundred pages and a midnight snack
it's just enough to get me through the day
between the lines is where I wish I'd stayed

when the world seems torn and frayed
take a long look inside
and read (read read read)

witnessed the fall of House Atreides
saw Olaf's eye etched below his knees
many a friend to meet along the way
each of us have our own dragon's to slay

whether escape or a place to play
just take a long look inside
and read (read read read)

tiny stack of books
glaring into the wasted hours
I've spent without them.

the final cinders of winter
burnt away.
and the sun stretching downward
dog across the sky.
dripping with uv.
desperate to bury the hatchet
of February and late snow
and empty beds
and cold.
I don't feel like being
a hermit today.