Wellies
Unfull cups of funny puddlewater
Around the feet and toes of happy children
*****
           Stamp
Splish
          Splash
What
         Fun
A memory of that darling child
Hand around her mother's
Fascinated and absorbed
By those little lakes and worlds
Her little pink coat
And wellies
Keeping her warm as a snug bug.
Stamp-Splash-Fun

Sleep in the everlasting
like
sleeping thru a funk.
Take this shame and this
pride.
Wake up hungry
and find no filler.
Find me here.
Find me unfull.
I am here.
Hear me.

to those who may be concerned
please avoid every ink drop and walk forward

But to those confident few
who sit in the pews of their own churches
and pray to their image, struck upon a cross
fashioned from bits of life experience
and the mortar crafted from strands of their own
product infused hair

A word of warning

that crown of thorny poems
whose lines weave and turn sharply
spaced out without meaning
but seemingly meaningful
yet unfull in the fullest sense of the
un-word

you only ****** your hair
and nail yourself to your own vanity
making structural pleasantries
that mean absolutely nothing

if a poem is your cross
cross it lightly
do not blind your meaning looking straight into the sun
your religion is for yourself
you died for yourself
mimicking jesus does not mean you died for everyone.

The sun will drag itself as though
You feel the kid you were has
Waited and time is what a jar
Is shaped by, before edging out
In lite beneath a panel or shed
Unlatched  with smells of bags
Unfull of yellow fumes, the day
Has found the branches and cherries
unzapped by beaks.  You know it's
Safe to start a new dream.  Again the fence
Is standing triumphantly, the night has
Been a lost call, a ball is tossed again
The neihbor is waving like a friend.