It
pays
to
know
yourself

:$)

This bubble has me trapped,
                      Suffocating, wrapped
In a blanket of fury-              
                Just let me be free

A
Poem
Is just a
Jumbled mix
Of words, shaped
And shifted according
To the writer's every whim-
Lovely, gray, unexpected, cliche,
Harsh, crisp, ragged, soft, or pointed
As an
Arrowhead

The clamor of attention
The cry of the crowd
This is what she wanted
Her dream, her hope, her song

The only thing that felt 'right'
Was her future as a star
But now she's finally here
And realizing she was wrong

Your eye
is the single thing.

I will fill it
with summer weeds
little stalks
no wrinkles
weighed with rain, like lungs of June.

I will fill it
with the hush of grass
swollen
with sun
your quiet lips like prayers, on my tongue.

You must never meet
puckered soil
wasted stems
no sickness
in this summer age.

Your eye will never fill
with these
trembling
wringing hands--
this ceiling without a star.

I will care for you.