I am a first generation
Park bench blue-jay.
I have scoured every subway
And train station track crack
Pattering my little feet
A little foot closer
To every cold heart
In every concrete city
From here to
where ever the ****
Blue birds go.
In my travels,
I have seen
Floorboards mold to the
Shape of a man's feet
Around the place
He prays every
Morning
In a much less a house
than it is a home.
I want my life to be a series of coming home.
I want my front door to be as open
As a bottle on a bad day.
And hey..
I don't condone getting
Absolutely freaking plastered,
But I want to be constantly
Under the influence of love
I want to be so
Intoxicated with
The music of the universe
That Brian Greene
Will never go
To another book signing.
I want to feel the orchestra
Of atoms in my hand
Like every Eagle Scout
Who earned his
Carving badge
On the bathroom stall
Y'all,
"I was here."
---And not one of you
Can write that
Like I just did.---
I was here.
And God knows
If I go somewhere
I'll always know
How to get back
So if anyone asks me
What I'm going to
Do with my life
I'm gonna tell them that.
Because I swear,
I'm not anything more than me.
Experiencing this moment momentarily.
And honestly,
I have spent more time
And more money looking for the
Right church, than I have
The right God
And I have spent more time
And way more money writing
The perfect eulogy
To the parts of you and me
That I just never really buried.
I'm convinced that
When people die,
Their spirit remains
In a rebounding wave
Of influence propagated
By those whose lives they
Have changed,
So for better or for worse,
I want to be a tsunami.
I want my waves
To travel like butterflies,
And I want to dream cocoon.
I wanna learn to love the world
The way it loves the moon.
And maybe one day
My heart will grow so big
For every bumble bee
And baseball mitt
That I'll pull a Saturn
And put a ring on it.
Or.. Lots of rings..
One for every
Level of my love:
A through F...U..
..See, maybe Jesus
Will write a book
About us,
Call it the little prince,
And I will spend all day
And all night
Trying to convince you
That snakes can eat elephants.
And I swear
I will spend every
Sunset and sunrise
Gnawing my calluses
On a porch swing
Convincing myself, I think,
That these hands
Are soft as
Thunder.
And maybe then I'll listen
To a back alley
Street lamp
In the middle of
A snow storm
At that exact moment
Where electricity
And felicity
Are one in the same.
I have spent years
Looking for the answer
To who I am,
Searching through
Every letter
Of every poem,
That has ever
Spoken to two
Birds in love.
When I should have
Been out writing it.
