bright red bubbles pop from underneath my feet
red as cherry trees that won't grow
can this be blood?
dirt from in between my toenails
i wash off Mother Nature's skin  
a leaking coming from my eyes
that washes away dissatisfaction
can these be tears?
the sound of feet against the ground
solid and unloving
i slip
face down into the ground
can this be where life comes from?
an old lady plants flowers in her garden
can this be inspiration?
i am losing my train of thought
can this brain be me?

Write your name in the dirt over my grave

Faithful buds you poke your heads out green
Leaves unfold round petals’ silky sheen
Sunlight draws you from your cellar rest
Dry-dirt roots seek water to ingest
Gift of romance, jewel of child’s crown
Found and owned, your beauty not your own
Perfect picture, ruined out of love
Plucked from home you flourish long for none

Is a common turtle really different from a crab?
They both make their ways slowly, across the dirt and sand.
The mouth and claw don't differ much in ways they're used to grab.
Could a common turtle really be a green-shelled crab?

This is a brothel
Where happiness is on sale
But you dont tell

Can't remember last time
I knelt down to dig in the dirt
but I do recall all us boys who'd climb
the sandy loam pile in the yard

to make castles, caves and highways
and let our fantasies reign -
oh what glorious days
when fun was simple and plain.

We cared not about smudges
holey pants or muddy feet
had not learned about grudges
nor become expert in deceit

hadn’t yet been betrayed
enough to live in hurt
and conjure all the ways
we could spite and spread dirt.

Maybe every now and again
I'd benefit from kneeling down
and digging deeper grain by grain
in earthy dirt - to find my being’s ground.

her bare toes touch the
wet grass,
the bottoms of her feet
now covered in mud
her feet are the garden
growing fresh movements
her mind is the water
nourishing the herbs