I need you

Like a summer wind that needs the rain

I need you

Like the breath of life for pleasure and for pain

I need you

Like a ticking clock that marks the hours

I need you

Like a humming bird among the flowers

I am your slave

I don’t stand out because my clothes are on point
I am not memorable because my intellect is one of a kind
My speech and my gait wouldn’t be considered the best
And there’s nothing the world I can do better than the rest

My song's just simple enough to be overlooked
My presence often dismissed, rarely brooked
Ordinary are my thoughts, nothing ever so divine
My remembrance but a modest dot in the elaborate design

I am not so lousy either as to draw a lot of attention
Just adequate enough to probably win consolation
While my story may be generic, familiar and trife
I am appropriately average to be living my finest life

I think a lot about the girl
from the camp in Guantánamo
she is a flower among the flowers
a mountain in the mountains, she lives
and never has to go anywhere

There, birds are singing in the palms
a stream flows through the valley
the water shines softer than gold
and she is a white rose
in June and in January

About her, I want to write
sunbeams in the eternal forest
a sparkling song from my heart
in bright green words
and flaming red music

She is my soul, she melts
weapons with feathers and coral
water, with laurel she heals
the wounded deer, the girl
from the camp in Guantánamo

I walk here daily

Amidst the greens, corn, and flowers

The flowers were not my idea but I love them just the same

The thin layer of mud keeps each foot company

The familiarity of the garden is comforting even if we haven’t planted it… yet

A dream, then god‘s interspersing jealous pleading indecipherable.

The  combinatorial explosion makes us into god-like humans,

when we grasp that simplicity is the greatest complexity,

the surges, the mastering urges, the blending melding gradations,

gods dream of our holy bodies encompassing, its said ingredients.


fly child!

the horizon line approaching, it’s either a goal or boundary, or both,

where endings blending make us immortal for a few minutes,

when the good Holy Ghost says, “me and we, ain’t no difference,”

hot fever, leads to raging calm, euphoria transition to believing,

where the god inroads, visibly interfere in invisible dreams, pixies pixelating fine granular,

dreaming my skin,  kin to prayering, my knees touching clouds,

lying on mounds of red soil, my eyes sewn shut and yet,

I see all perfectly, for the dream of god, is what we are...

~

7:15am
Jan. 31, the year of 2020 visionary

Follower

Leader

Sky dancer

Wind chaser

Shadow jumper

I am horse