I've learned that failure is subjective
as beauty in the eyes of the beholder
sometimes a hard fall or soft landing
a moth flight against the porch light
or a bruised knee, left on the cement

the way he wears his words
must be the way he wears
his clothes, in few but many
not so much so that I still
can hear his heartbeat
pulse between the lines

I could pride myself
in the things I've never
done, but instead they
speak about liquor and
what they have seen at
the table, I have no choice
but to tread water in my
own morals, hope for a
topic I can relate to

So I was flying through the woods one day
And hummingbirds flitting and flashing
Iridescence and opalescence
Shimmery glints of golden green and violet blue
I laughed and darted with these sweet ones
Twisting and chasing in a game of faerie-bird-tag
Then a mosquitoe's whining shrill
zips past my head
zip zip two more speed by
I whip my head around and see a crazed mountain man
Blunderbuss in tow and limp carcasses dangling from his belt
Beard and hair more of a mane of insanity
In this manic frenzy, one cant help but to smile
Then dive in to dodge as if in a Matrix world
The madman fires, shooting away at his brilliant tiny targets,
Shooting if only for the sake of practice