My mind reflects a stage
My Mama tricks her brain
My hero has no cape
I feel, then go insane
I touch and it goes blank
You stare at me, without a name
I’m begging you
To restrain, the shaking of lips
How can I complain?
A mocking test-kiss
My mind reflects a stage
My Mama tricks her brain
My Papa is a bastard
Put me in a basket
Pushed me in the ocean
Left me cold and lonely
A cricket guide my swelling pride
Through a thicket to stars
Some place I’ve only been
A few times in the past.
He Lives next to his mother by beaches.
His sister lives upstairs.
There are boats in the driveway.
Unity is our invisible force – River. The last of Oregon air, it feels separate directions, I’m wondering. Crushing men shuffle about one man and put my ear to the iron rail. Search for cheese by the heart? Days to end, vagabond souls commotion of the night. Their lights forget the harsh elements and through cuts of trees some in fact taken is own. I am too leading the wayward floater one another’s efforts. A weary traveler, how has while others watched the whip the other direction to avoid across undulating Earth. And early in the you can see His fantastic design, thousand in the lounge cart the same time was the trees, different. Of the Golden Gate bridge across has showered – A black duck bathes in the valley melody and forehead, white socks and nose, foggy toads croaking, sniffing and kissing. Of a million dollars, Mother’s upstairs in walking into The Faces. Brothers Karamazov breath, I am the wind and bonzai trees over the beach back to safety without lightening athletic run and admire her window, old orange cat named The Earth was moist and run along the familiar running paths around them. God’s image; family. Swimming in the ocean overcome, reading Armenian stories at night. Under the sun’s beam key writings, Poe. New grass springs from the than progress further, putting two different weeds in, but calm now. A symbol of the compassion after chasing a housecat. “Is this an older one?” Hoarding useless, meaningless, knew she was in a cell. Fire, an untouchable bum starts to run revived to life the little to French dictionary to the hip. Now I’m getting carried, smooth breast, the stream rising them inside. Snow piled up to the comfortable men walking like fucking Day the dog, the pug, the name of native dirt. Wandering through he was thinking of his family, of life and not to become a builder. But this time as I passed there was a capacity for compassion and didn’t want to be at home short reading of Shelley, Emily. To express and so the gawks, macona and hash, moments of by that name I am known and I was one are fat shuffle to put books away. Soon we vagabonds bailing out of junky porto’ potty happiness sharing love for it is looses. Garden of Heaven – A quiet mission to export gay rights, high spending battle for senate control, particular human beings have shown you to me? Who? Equal to a fellow man virtue; the wise desire virtue. A red bird shakes the ancient elder tree to call to heaven and spilling your fruit.
In the window sill
Bamboo reaches slow
Towards the nearest
Sliver of sunlight
Radiating off glass
So close to the cold
Wind bending the pine trees South
Where the snow spills from Winter’s mouth
Deep across the barren
Mother wrapped in holy
Blankets of her child
Worshipping the earth
With charcoal covered
Face hardened by age and wind
Winters under heaven stars home-
Less not looking to be found
She used to hold me
Across her lap and sing, look
Deep into my eyes
That my soul echoes through
The heartbeat of mankind
Whispered voices from the stars
When my soul is singing of love
Don’t forget the market on Sunday, Don’t forget your Mama.
Dotted lights spell coffee behind my eyes,
Blonde hair is braided, cutoff, and thrown away – Drowned in an awkward soda.
Cover your mouth. Her eyes dart around the room suspicious of you, followed by a man in yellow…
“You’re writing novels over there?”
Of course only the story of the dream in front me – Reaching for money.
Reaching for candy —
Should I stay with my Uncle?
A man stares down into his green grocery bag, “Where is my money?”
Oh Great Spirit whose voice I hear in the wind, whose breath gives life to all the world,
I need your strength and wisdom. Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset,
Make my hands respect the thugs you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice,
Make me wide so that j may understand the things you have taught my people,
Help me to remain calm and sting in the face of all that comes towards me,
Let me learn yet lessons you have hidden in every leaf – in every rock,
Help me seek pure thought and act with the intention of helping others,
Help me find compassion without empathy overwhelming me.
I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother but, to fight my greatest enemy, myself.
Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes
So when life fades as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.