past tense

muscle has
memory

it remembers
you

all over

the heat from
the moments

that meant
more

the anticipation
of forever

and I wonder

does rain
feel pain

when it ends

I live in a high rise

looking down from my perch
as I have done so many days

I see

green mountains still surround me
the river flows the same direction
the bridges hold their weight
the buildings stand still
the birds fly and gather together

but something is different
all the ants have disappeared

in recovery
from faith

but still
haunted by

voices of
the others

left behind

the echoes
of lies

a cavern
where we

gathered
when we

believed

there is
always a

pull to fall
back to the

same place
we started

our search
as if progress

is a circle

i will defend
every challenge

he will discard
all the work

we have
accomplished

so easily

trying to make
it better

he can absorb
things so quickly

renew his mind
into another form

he is all about
the future

i am all about
the past

I smell like
spaghetti

not a neat
eater

I always
dig in

face first
and slurp

with my nose

I push the
meatballs

aside to
play with

later

it is a meal
fit for king

the geese are
returning

early this year

it was not that
cold this winter

the vortex did
not descend

upon us

and hover
over us

endlessly

everything was
not frozen

in place

and even with
all this relative

warmth around me
it does not

enter me

I am not
so happy

this year

letters are limited

but words and meaning
are limitless

and truth is timeless
and difficult to reach

the little ones
we are young

asking simple
questions

of each other

exploring
experimenting

with words
we are still

learning

we don’t know
what we

don’t know or
what we are

supposed to know

we have not
been buried

in a mountain
of shoulds

so we play
the natural way

she was young
without direction

her road
was not paved

each step
was rough
on her bare feet

and she slipped
so many times

cutting herself

leaving partly healed
scars all over

the lonesome
highway is
eternal

once it finds you
there are no off-ramps

only rest stops

it feasts on
roadkill

leaving behind
the softest parts

I was a leftover
the end of the road

they did not make love
when they conceived of me

maybe he was drunk
maybe she was sad

and lonely

missing the one
she lost

nine months before

it was a different time
a poor man worked

for whatever he could get

and a poor woman
had a duty

maybe it’s not a
different time

for the poor

have you met

the confident
creature

walks in the rain
and never gets wet

steps on holes
and never falls

stares at the sun
and doesn’t burn

smiles at strangers
like they are family

or candy

beware the
confident creature

picking souls from

between his large
white teeth

systems are
salvation

the gods
are patterns

repetitions
we learn

to love

because they
work

sometimes

all models
are wrong

but we are
designers

correcting
our mistakes

and our is
all of us

those who
came before

and

those who
follow us

beauty is
simplicity

perfection

and while
we may not

be beauty

we are beautiful

striving for
perfection

in everything
we do

playful letters
tease me

they come
together

make me
see things

make me
feel things

make me
laugh

make me
cry

make me
believe

in something
more

make me
doubt

anything
is real

what would
I do without

my playful
letters

in his tiny
mind he

was determined
that even

without all
the usual

safety nets
to catch him

he will still
carry all his

weight across
the thin line

and make
something

worth something
of his

cheap simple life

seems to be

the basis of
every faith

transcendence

conquering
this life

the magic
of belief

we crawl
and learn

to walk

we walk
and learn

to run

we run
and learn

to fly

we fly
and learn

to transcend

we transcend
and…

she wanted
to believe

the universe
was

intentional
that each

step had
meaning

that someone
thought

long and hard
about her

life

that someone
looked

out for her

so she dropped
her pennies

and whispered
her wishes

every rainy day

up early and
enter the outside

blue sky
green grass

barefoot baby

running on stones
stepping on bees

exploring

the wide
open world

creating a
new path

without the
same old

boundaries

where the
ancients

fear to tread

when they see him
they say he reads hungry

he is so wild
pure abandon

crushing all obstacles
in his path

he is looking for raw meat
he wants the blood dripping

down his chest

he wants only tough words
to chew on

only they can nourish him
only they can satisfy his

hunger

I say the word
that was taken

for granted for
so long

and now there

are so many
questions

being asked
about these

categories

and sometimes
I don’t know

what to say
I have to stop

and think

sometimes that
is good and

sometimes that
is bad only

time will tell

they improvise
sounds together

love rattles
create a mystery

they learn more
about each other

in their movements
playing off each

other

letting what comes
next happen

without ever
occurring to them

strangely
beautiful

shapely
and sharp

always with
a story to

tell

staring at
me escaping

from behind
bronze

locks

they know
they are

my kryptonite
and they will

use this
knowledge

to destroy me
or at least

make me weak
enough to

overcome me

we live in the shades.  the differences.  between light.  and dark.  
the edges.  where people.  get cut.  when they move.  against the grain.

we bleed.  the same.  but we don’t.  admit it.  
until we bleed.  together.

then we become.  blood.
brothers and sisters.

and live together.

I was
without

you took
me along

gave me
so much

within

there are so many
mirrors

on the earth

they give us
questions to

ask ourselves and

when I face one
I ask myself

what is the human
thing to do

she is young
relatively

but we have
asked so much of her

she feels like
she is breaking

from all these demands

sometimes I laugh
when I think

too much or when
I see myself

in a mirror

and sometimes I don’t

she scrubs her skin
sees a stain

that won’t leave
I don’t see it

but she still
doesn’t trust me

she thinks I
am too nice

to tell the truth

she hurts when
I touch her

I hurt when
she won’t

but I don’t tell her

we are not
alone

the world
is filled

with people
like US

we all need
each other

but we are
scared to admit

all walls are
blocks of fear

piled on top
of each other

today everything
spreads quickly

hurt and help

we choose how
to use our powers

all of US

the mind is
the creator

of miracles
and messes

I am in morass
moving slowly

my heart stutters

my skin feels
like dirt

ants crawling
all over it

feeling their
desperate days

living one line
one dream shared
and crushed

by one fateful step

life is a
dried rubber
band
stretched

If I was young
and beautiful

you would laugh

and nothing
would matter

or stutter
or dry out
or be stretched

I have to
believe

the work
is somehow

separate

from the
one who

created it
there are

so many
things in

art
science
politics
philosophy
psychology
etc.

that I love
and I don’t

love or
even really
know the

people who
created it

and I know
I am not

perfect I
would hate

if you had
to love me

to love
my work

smoke and
flames

opening
pockets
in the
earth

that never
end

anything to
distract you

from
seeing
me

from
reaching
inside me

pulling
out
my
soul

reading
my
diary

I love patterns
always have

I remember
going with my mom

to buy “patterns”

stores would
sell packages
of patterns

that could be
used to make

clothes

but the patterns
I love are of human

behaviors (not
of clothes)

particularly when
it comes to work

or to the design
of organizations

it’s interesting

to try to identify
those things that

influenced us to become
who we became

especially if we
didn’t follow

any specific pattern
along the way

sanity is
fragile

one word
out of place

makes you
think

something is
wrong

you do not
realize

the very
definition
of place

is fragile
and maybe

it is sanity
that is holding

on to you

the sun laughed
when I asked

to be set free

so I concocted
a potion

creating a powder
and blew it

into the air
it spread like

an ocean of dandelions

creating massive clouds
that never moved

caging the bright beast

freeing me from
the heat that

pained me

those ephemeral
little demons

haunting me

little one
has a point

she uses to
poke me

she doesn’t
have a lot

of words
but she

knows how
to use them

one day she
will bring

down the
world

with her
point

and maybe
then it will

work

in the earth
it was buried

not forgotten
not forgiving

it fell deep
becoming

part of the
core

heating
itself

in rage
it could

not be
satiated

searching
for cracks

looking for
an escape

it found
not one

but so many

that it could
not explode

it had to seep
to reach the

surface and
then spread

either way it
will make

its point

wind is music
as the yellow

flowers dance
the rhythm of

love

spreading seeds
into the sky

sparkling like
little suns

sometimes life
is easy

we exchanged words

the speed of bullets
pinging off walls

luckily we had
bad aim

or maybe we
didn’t want to ****

each other
we were young

we didn’t know how
to form complete

sentences

If I was a dog
I could shed

leaving behind
the heaviest parts

to be swept up
and tossed away

I would be light
and fresh

I would dance
like a puppy

ready to take
on anything

If I was a dog

a simple
not simplistic

thing

it has weight
when used

well

it creates
the space

needed

for truth
to live

well

we worship
the sun

and watch
her smile

she holds
the moon

in her
tiny fingers

squeezing
light

from inside
the darkness

hope can’t
exist

without fear
and we wait

for her whisper
when everything

hard turns soft
and love becomes

the basis of life

small mindless
creatures

multiplying
by the millions

passed so easily

from one to
another

without anyone
knowing

there is no
known defense

so it triggers

our bodies to
become sick

the dis-ease
is our reaction

to its presence

if we taught
our bodies

to ignore it

like most
bullies maybe

it would just
go away

mouth shut
mind open

for a day
I let go of

what I know
empty all

the chambers
that are always

loaded and
ready to explode

I let you speak
until you say

you are done
and I only

speak to ask
not to tell

and then
once again

I listen

each one
left a mark

when they
left me

lost in the midst
of what might happen

or what is happening

hard to tell the
difference now

so many words
in mind and mouth

it’s all so confusing

I think maybe
we all need to pause

feel a deep breath
and forget

find a safe way to
release a little

piece of our anxiety

I bit down too
hard    on

that thought
I chipped a cell

now my brain is
not together

the sides don’t
meet it is

really hard to
eat the tough

stuff

he cannot hear
your pain

his own voice
drowns out

all other sounds

he cannot hear
your advice

his own voice
drowns out

all other sounds

he cannot hear
your warnings

his own voice
drowns out

all other sounds

he cannot hear
he has no ears

isolated time
has less meaning

the clock strikes
and does not get

my attention

I have no
appointments

so I cannot be late

the alarm has been
laid off

like so many

and I wake
past midnight

and sleep past noon

I reach edges

and fall down
it is not round

this world

I cannot get
back to the

place I started
and start again

and try again
try harder

I had one
chance

like smoke
mostly

I disappear
there is a

trace of me
somewhere

in you

I could be
a poison

or a moment
of pleasure

depending on
the time of day

I am no longer
whole

I am separating
from my meaning

entering other worlds

smaller worlds with
smaller meanings

I can no longer
see the future

so I hold onto
the past

or pieces of the past

small islands that
keep me afloat

I look for other
islands to connect to

hoping together
we can create

a new world

but with small
meanings we

can only create
small worlds