In an airstream of breath, I rise.
Celebrating, moments that echoes with light.
Celebrating, birds who whisper daintily,
as dogs that romp with voice.

In an airstream of natures breeze, I rise
Dancing, in knowing I am divine.
Dancing, with puffy graceful clouds
as flowery smells open heart.

In an airstream present, I am free.
Free, to drift in grace anointing all.
Free, to remember  who I am
as all my precious dreams align.

Dreams that root,
in garden of an airstream breath.



StarBG © 2017

In a garden of an airstream of breath, I rise.
Celebrating the moment that echoes with light.
Celebrating the birds who whisper daintily,
and the dogs that romp with voice.

In a garden of an airstream of natures breeze, I rise
Dancing in knowing I am divine.
Dancing with puffy graceful clouds
and flowery smells that open heart.

In a garden of an airstream present, I am free.
Free to drift in dreams.
Free to remember all my gifts,
and all my precious dreams.

Dreams that take root in the garden of an airstream breath.
StarBG © 2017

rain
mud and grass
common prayer
good weather
good people
art
and umbrella bags
because who wants to
get wet?
unless it’s with you
I could
I would
jump into the lake
for that rock
sew
cleanse
initials made in sharpie
and unclamp
we run
around the park
the afternoon surrounds us
the woman in the bikini
passes
and we laugh
iced tea
decaf coffee
cake without teeth
and that airstream camper
you always wanted
I could live in your
backyard
I could live somewhere
not here
in silver
prostrated
with my back to the
moon
like dead
like a mummy
like a mirror
and life would make sense
life would be beautiful
like this run
with perfect amounts of sweat
and conversation that runs
waves in the sand
and tells the squirrels
goodnight, tractor
see you tomorrow
and the land that billows
is dug up
and chewed
like a goodnight poem
this run with you
takes rest
on my soul
and I crack my ribs
to take the spring’s
twilight
aroma

it smelled like love and a dive bar.
polishing liquid, flowers, stale smoke, patchouli oil.
the floor was covered in a blanket of antique carpets that
were the color of levi’s after being
mixed with bleach
and red lipstick that hadn't been removed
after 2 days that needed to be touched up.
that character practically lived
in the silver giant
and he decided that tapestries with the edges duct taped to the windowsills with designs
that were so deeply eloquent to the point
where the human brain could effortlessly get lost in them
were 300 times better than curtains.
there was a transistor radio in there,
oh, the good ol’ transistor that
was adored despite the raging amounts of
static that would pour out of
the speakers...
whenever the dead or zeppelin came
on the volume switch would turn as far
to the right as it would go.
he would smile
and within an hour
his fingers, bound in
layers of opal and turquoise rings would turn an ordinary
sheet of silver into
a glistening piece of magic.
every second spent in the airstream
was an abstract painting as tangled and mystifying
as those tapestries on the cracked
fingerprint stained windows,
where life took place in the subterranean depths
of the paper grains that no one
had dared to venture to.

-*z. vega

Caught the garden of an airstream of breath, I rise.
Celebrating the moment that echoes with light.
Celebrating the birds who whisper daintily,
and the dogs that romp with voice.

Caught in an airstream of natures breeze, I rise
Dancing in knowing I am divine.
Dancing with puffy graceful clouds
and flowery smells that open heart.

Caught in an airstream present, I am free.
Free to drift in dreams.
Free to remember all my gifts,
and all my precious dreams.

Dreams that take root in the garden of an airstream breath.

I was grieving in September
I felt loss
the sky was empty
without summers abundance of life
there will be no more aerial displays
swooping birds on the airstream
feasting on unaware flies overly engaged in their own ceremonies of the sky
high spirited flight, with purpose such a magnificent sight
I was grieving in September
for the swallows had gone
left for another’s warmth
another’s ability to provide
but they will return
they always do
to the white cracked home
in need of repair from winters effect
together making the home as new
and bringing new life to celebrate
and I will watch in awe
as they learn the sky dance of their parents
these thoughts
And the promise of their return
keeps me warm
as I settle into winters cold

We saw the crosses
And the dozen of roses
Each for the 12 graves
Every tombstone reading
'Jesus Saves'
Then an open bible
With a funeral verse
That sounded like a fable
A flocking mass
All in black with poignant faces
A bald-headed reverend
Howling ashes to ashes
Clouds change to thunderhead
And the airstream consoles
The bodies that have lost their souls.

I met a guy,
And when he looks at me
I know he sees
Him and me
Down the road
When we're old
Sitting' on that back porch
Drinkin' sweet tea
Or maybe whiskey;
Him and me
Down the road
Livin' in an airstream
Like gypsies
Blown from place to place
Never stayin' settled too long;
Him and me
Down the road
Hand in hand
Watchin' our
Sons become fathers,
Daughters become mothers,
But always our children
No matter how old they get;
Him and me
Down the road
Side by side
Six feet under
With his epitaph that reads
"Her and me forever."
And mine that reads
"What he said."

Shoot Straight, Sister
The Burly Man yelled loudly
Shoot Straight, can’t you?
Pointing my new gun proudly

Shooting Practice
My brand-new Smith & Wesson
I’m having my
Very first shooting lesson

Shooting’s easy
I hit the target’s bullseye
Brilliant shooting
Like Annie Oakley was I

Shoot great, Baby!
Where’d ya learn to shoot like that?
I’m scouting for
A new Wild West Circus Act!

Shoot straight, Mister
Only if I’m Top Billing
An Airstream, too
And for that I’d be willing