Get my boat so I may go to the mountain top,
To thy enemies Infront of thee flee,
On their carpets they go away from their home,
From all they have ever known,
Wayward unto the sea, down many leagues they flee,
Away from the wrath of ye and me,
To the Mariana trench we cannot see,
Is the destination to their journey,
Upon which we will sojourn,
And deeply yearn,
All there is to learn.

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there are moments in a climb
where you stop,
and put down the things you carry.

either to admire the view
or to let your lungs heal
from the constant ******* in of wind.

there are moments in life,
where we must stop,
and put down the things we carry.

either to admire the the view
or to heal the ache
of constantly living.

What is love,
if not told to the heavens?
What I feel for you,
is locked deep in the ocean.
The more I know you,
the Deeper I go into your forest.
What I want is not empty,
like weathered plains.
It’s not murky nor dead,
as I step through your swampy past.
It’s whole and true,
as the smell of rain in April.
Its beauty is among the sun,
in spring.
All I want for you,
for us.
Is an adventure,
of love everlasting.

Smell the forest’s breath
Sweet pinesap, hot brush, decay
The mountain’s flesh bleeds
sharp, fine dust; rocks clot the roads
Selfish love wounds its lover

I hiked on the highest Mountain,
Swam the deepest Sea.
I fished in crystal Waters,
but success kept evading Me.
I felt Success, was a Race Horse,
that runs Fast and Free.
So I ran My Races with Blinkers,
but success never greeted Me.
In reality, Success is not a Race Horse.
But it's the field, on which it Raced.
Success had always, held My Hands.
I was Blind, in having it Chased.
Success is in the Journey,
I chose to climb the tallest Heights.
All this while, Success sat besides Me.
Watching Me, for Days and Nights.

Doing time with my spouse,
feels like climbing a mountain.

Nicky, the neighbor’s dog, drags a road **** home.
A beautiful pelt like those fox shoulder garments women wore in the
      forties.
But the head is crushed beyond recognition—maybe it’s a fox and that’s
      why Nicky, a canine, is conducting this wake on our front lawn.

Loretta, my wife’s mother, is in the hospital again. Forty years of Crohn’s
      disease has finally broken her.
It may take some time but she won’t bounce back from this episode.
None of us are sorry to see her die, not even Loretta. There will be a
      thunderous downpour during her last hour.

I like the story about the nuns hitting Peg in school–contumacy is a sin.
Emile and Loretta considered it an inappropriate punishment for their
      cherished adopted daughter.
So they pulled her out of Catholic for public school. They did their own
      thinking about discipline.

Early Spring, peepers all night, then the birds take over at dawn.
      Soothing—the mourning doves.
During this half of the year, May through October, we live in a green
      bower.
We turn the house inside out, move into the mountains.

In their annual order, flowers appear in the understory: coltsfoot, hepatica
      and trillium through to the end, late purple aster, spotted joe pye and
      pearly everlasting.
We let Nicky nurse her road ****, watch over it, roll around on it.
Don’t let go of the steering wheel while driving fast in the passing lane.

those who observed me while i was dormant
marveled at my majesty
unaware of the volatility that i barely kept contained

i was roped off, labeled with a tidy wooden sign that told me and others
what i was
a stoic monument and stable mountain

while at my core i seethed, i did my best to be what i needed to be in order to be witnessed

inevitably i erupted, frightening the gathered onlookers with a blazing rain of lava and a suffocating cloud of ash
the sky grew dark and it felt like the end of the world
but i needed to scream and i didn't mean to hurt anyone

i've had far fewer visitors since that day
i was fenced off, labeled with a rusting metal sign that told me and others what i was
a volcanic monster and volatile menace

i wonder
as i quietly crumble into the sea
if i will be remembered by humanity
and if so
will it be as the mountain
or the monster?

in the end
i think i would prefer to be forgotten