the yellow brick broad
i travelled
started with finding my voice
(it had flown away on a Kansas tornado).

Somewhere along the way
I hoped I would stand taller
-- be more honest
but, you know, the munchkins
they always get really nervous.
they worry about the semblance
of sanity

and the wicked witches
and their flying monkeys
are forever concerned
that all their black histories
will be laid raw and bare

and i am not blameless

i have learned that i can be
painfully honest in poetry.
kind folks congratulate me
on my imagination
because they can't imagine my reality

and i have to wonder

about the depth and breadth
of my sincerity
when i hide in plain sight

laying my heart bare
to strangers
is not brave

and i have miles to go

before i can go home again