We who shuffle seamlessly along history's ****** banks,
And think our lives are pointful, filled up with meaning,
Yet believe prayers are unanswered, and demeaning,
But if they're not, could never offer thanks,
Can feel the horrors we have created just beneath our skin;
Writhing, contorting, causing trembles in our hands,
Over nothing so petty as what some god claims is sin,
And won't be washed clean by the hourglass's sands.

I am strongly convinced that, even if I can
(By some miracle), be absolved by God's forgiveness,
That He has absolutely no **** right to do this,
To steal that from me, and to change what I am.

The giant bird

his feathers black

runs along

his favored track


I crouch down low

amid the reeds

the spear I hold

toward, he speeds

the time has come

my family starves

through frozen air

my spear tip carves

Flying true

Or maybe wide

with wind and

gravity it vied

and will it hit?

and bring him down?

will I return

to great renown?

The darkness comes

the sun has set

the snow alights

the valley wet

I see the fire

on the ridge

my arms are sore

but just a smidge

for I return

a huntress true

with meat enough

for all of you

It's your birthday today.
You would've been 56 years old.
You kept me, raised me
when I was young,
worked me
to show me discipline,
and believed me when I told the truth.
You made me apologize when
I had said cruel things,
and helped me love the difference
of others.
You believed in me,
and celebrated my differences as well.

One of my fondest memories of us
is when you baby-sat me on a Saturday.
We went to garage-sales.
You bought me every baseball I could find.
They were cheap then,
but I'd give anything to still have one.

I watched you drum away to many songs,
mesmerized,
knowing I wanted to do the same.
I was often behind your drums,
dreaming of things to play.

Today I sat behind a drum kit.
I've been paid to play.
That makes me a professional, right?
You would be proud.

I broke down today, behind that kit,
thinking of you.
I lied, said I needed a bathroom
when really I needed a floor to cry.

I curled up in a friend's bathroom floor,
and, finally,
felt your passing.

I miss you so much.

the cadence spat  a bit
of the cane tap tap tap
on the steps
he still guided his way around

I sat on the   step
quite close wondering
if I had
a handicap

how the **** might I
get around

I am a block of clay
Patiently waiting for your hands to cover me
To mold me into something different
That I never thought I’d become.
Pinch off my imperfections
And add on new formations that someone after you
Can pinch off next.
Glaze over the way my body was naturally
And instead glaze me with a color you think suits me best
Spin me around until I am sick
Of being placed on your pedestal.
I am a block of clay
That someone in the middle of a forest saw
And decided that I simply so inspiring
I had to be turned into art.
I am a medium that millions will shape into something beautiful
I am the foundation for everything beautiful.
Do not mess up your chance to make art out of me.

If I had enough wits to fly,
I'd like to escape the sky,
I'd leave in mid-June,
wave bye to the moon
whilst riding a huge firefly.