the dregs of your spotted smiles somersaulted in an elegant arc

fell in helpless array and landed nine planets away from my feet

and something slightly old still feeds my anger at your impatience





I forage through my grace to keep my tongue from spilling mess

and my heart feels all squiggly as I sneeze my way to your mocking silence

I gladly offer sweet indulgence while you openly despise my faults




I forage through my fantasies, not wishing to appear so trivial

lesions swell on the plastic head of revulsion

let not depression eat at your sweet magical pulse

still strongly beating in the sometimes sepulchral coffers of life




scorn not the honey bee buzzing or the hummingbird flitting

embrace the nuisance of calamity

for it helps along the way

to make vigorous the spirit

to wedge a cardiac space in place of pillowcase full of stones

where giants sleep in silent meadows across the land

sensing no sharp slingshot from no nifty bottle legged creature

and disappearing into the thicket would be the right time

on a heavy back, a child carries a burden made of toxic crayons

to melt away the awful prejudice of its forbears; undo the chains

the bringer of rain stands alone in a puddle, or is it a lake?




are YOU awake?