When you wake up to snow bleeding blue with slow footsteps crossing crisp in a glade of birdsong,

do you pull the blanket over your head refusing to wrestle your work clothes on?

When morning light clips off your dreams and pours into the dorm room,

do you Cujo snarl for night?

When the 2 a.m. train whistle whips over the foggy dew night and the swing sets jingle for bodies,

do you ache to ride for free?

Somewhere else.
Some place else.

Hoovering on the border of perceptions.

Where no money doesn't ******* matter.

Who gives a **** about what kind of car you drive?

How many tricks you can do with your talking *******.

I really don't give a ****.
How much **** you have does not impress me.

I want to know what makes you moan when you're alone tossing and turning on a rain dog night as you wonder about the hidden moon in your heart and why it's taking so long to come back out.

I want to listen to the boiling water spill over in your head and watch you evaporate under hidden light.

I need to see you dance on a bluff of your best memory as the sea spray roars up something primal inside you.

I have to hear your questions zip across the tree's like a bluebird who still visits you on your shoulder.

I want to catch your tears before they fall off your chin and bless them.

I want to be stabbed by a million falling stars flashing behind your eyes and be changed by each one.

I want to meet your devil, invite him in for dinner and have a few laughs over some wine and sushi.

One day I woke up and the entire sky looked like a blueberry.
I felt it sneak inside to smear me and I didn't know how to write or talk about it.

In fact, I still don't.

Some times when I read poetry it makes me feel invincible,
as if the truth is stronger than any Government,

and
the light of words
rush down
in a captivating avalanche
of power,

and

instead of burying me
I swear I can touch
every star ever made

as it fills me

with an ocean of light
connecting me back
to the heavenly place
we all ache for.