#canyou
Her kite strings are caught on a gill
She’s refusing to let go
Grains of sand have formed to hands
And are trying to hold her toe
No dad it’s not that
It’s an airship bound for Mars
With hands out the window
Waving king-sized candy bars
No son surely that’s not right
It must be a school bus full of children
With coloring pages
Half-way to all the way filled in
Dad don’t be silly
It’s Harold and his Purple Crayon
But he fell out of his balloon
And is trying to draw the ground
Oh no, will he make it
I don’t know
I do hope he will
I do think so
That’s good son
I’d hate to see him fall
I know dad
Wouldn’t we all
But you’re sure those aren’t whales
Floating through the skies
Because it sure does look like it
Dad! Whales aren’t that size
Besides even if they were
What would whales be doing up there
Well, I mean they are just clouds
Not if you try real hard, I swear
Silly little humans there on the sand
Humphry, surely they’re little bugs
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
Look into my eyes
They widen and glisten
I can show you the elders’ cries
Through sight, you must listen
Take my hand and walk
Soles silently cringe
Walk on but no talk
What you see is a matrix fringe
Curl your fingers together
Feel the icing on the tangible
Clear your throat, it’s fever
Of frill and lust, the dispensable
Can you see?
Can you hear?
Can you feel?
Speak with yourself –
It is no super than I.
The whispers from the moon
From rabbit’s supper to a drone
Akin to a butterfly from a cocoon
Echoes the sound of ‘Om’
Take a seat, float, know tranquil
Look behind, in front, anywhere
The silence is what remains still
Though entities exist everywhere
Can you see?
Can you hear?
Can you feel?
Speak with yourself –
It is no super than I.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC