I didn’t need a pair of scissors
but this pair was yours mother.
I didn’t need material things
but there were parts of you in every box.

Sometimes I still need you, oh mother,
and the scissors I have still.

I’m full of
mice and men
of this world.

Rats thrive in the sewers
of men who are mice
and soon mice in a trap.

But I wiggle myself free
and head up the darkened stairs
with the vermin.

I’m not afraid, maybe a little nervous

it’s getting darker
and those footsteps above
keep sounding
like they may be descending.

I wonder what will happen
in the dark of my back stairs tonight?

My senses tingle
like a mouse.

I searched the air
that circles tree branches
in December.
I knew within if I
could take that air
I would breathe forever.

I searched the water
that is swept back
by the swing of a
guppy’s tail, so tiny
that no one noticed.
I wanted to drink it
when it broke the stillness
of a trapped pool.

What I needed was
so small that
I didn’t notice it myself.
That one drop
of condensation that
hung from my window.
That one speck of dust
that rose when I
picked up my pen.

This is a time of
separating paths
but pacts need not
be broken.
You and I will know.

Know all the cars
that cross the border
past the weathered sign.

Welcome To A Brand New Place
I can see your face
reading the words
but your lips don't move
your eyes don't blink.

Stand over the bridge and
let pebbles fall into the river.
I needn't hold on
to these former times
I find they remain.
This is a time.

Blessed are those able
to relinquish control
to the trees.
Blessed are the trees
whose falling leaves
fertilize the soil.

You sit there
steering wheel in hand
facing something and saying
so this is God
I am a mere child
once more.