Change

My poetry comes out differently now

It floats out when I breathe

Spills from my eyes

Locks up my words

I can walk away now

From a blank and longing page

And my soul still dances in time with cosmic winds

And though on occasion

My poems still do leak through the nibs of my various pens

To fill the pores of this page

Canvas to my imagined genius

For the most part now

I inhabit the spaces between words

And each breath is a volume

A universe unto itself

The Night Of

Mid winter vision quest
With a fresh subconcious seeker,
His skepticism washed away with the moment,
And a silent type
And me.

I feel like a fly
As on so many walls before
But he thought I was an angel
Or a witch,
And maybe we are all both
Once we get past our dogmas and jean size.

I am reminded how much
Summer nourishes me
And how very far away it is
But I am whole
Filled to bursting.

And come morning
Just myself and you
With your starlit memories
I know that my quest is complete
And my journey has just begun.

On The Bus

I find myself in the back of the bus again

Scribbling bumpy lines to pass the time again

And I'm feeling like joining the ranks of the indelible and indecipherable

The esoteric symbols and names of the latest phase

Those with enough passion to feed their protests

Pointless and otherwise

And there is a small sanctuary found in the youthful ease of steel toed boots

Worn bright and arrogant

Ready to shitkick the world

And there is cool comfort in the company of those

Who still have the energy and naivete

To believe that they can change the world

Before it has the chance to change them

And though I still tend to be a proud member of a limited breed

The enraged vigilantes for beauty and civility

I am aware of all the cocoons I have sprung from

The countless daily concessions I make to compensate for my cosmopolitan cravings in this instant's society

But I still manage at times to muster the spark to design a few signs

Walk a few lines

And in flashes that seem on occasion to be

Duller and fewer and farther between

I find the fire to fully believe

That I can create art from this ongoing calamity

Build my own future

Buy a farm

Find my rhythm and learn to drum

And finally drop

Into something greater

By dropping out of this

Butterflies

I still remember walking through summer
Hand in hand with her
Before I knew she was magick
Or even a woman
Only that she was my grandmother
There were more monarch butterflies then it seems
And they say calmly
Elegant here and there on the leaves and concrete
But when she tells the story
The butterflies are endless
Wings the colour of sunsets and moonless nights
laid out like a tapenstry before us
And suddenly I
Remember it that way too

Smile :)

She taught me the power of crystal
Then showed me that power in everything
She taught me to see in tea leaves, cards, and palms
And then taught me how to read people
She told me to stay close to God
And then years later that god is Love and Joy
She taught me to improvise
But never compromise
And to smile
But not too much
Or people will think you're stupid

Coming Home

I've gone from grasping at intangibles
To forging my reality:
Melting down my unnecessary leftovers and outgrown bits
For recycling and reinvention
While passing bad twenties to buy some time.
Frankly
I am touched that you came
By fluke or design
To this point in time
To share your heart and space with me;
And though I have crafted sad shelters
Out of necessity and despair
Built fetid cocoons in the hopes of minty fresh recreation,
Only now can I
Raise my feet
Rest my head
And bask in home.

Recurring

Often in my dreams I am rolling to safety
Inches from impending wheels
Heart beating
Breath caught
Screaming not even a passing thought
I am rolling
To the curb
To the grassy dark ditch
Wherever
Away from on coming headlights
Always night
Usually raining
Or at the very least there are puddles
And damp cracks in the road
Too close to my face
As I roll out of the way just in time
And each time I am surprised
That I have made it
As the tires blow by my face
That I was not hit
Not killed
By the anonymous car that drives away without hesitation
While I lay roadside
Catching my breath and counting my blessings
Over
And over
Again

Message

Wrapped in ribbons of scented smoke
Doused in tea soaked steam
My mind slides to memories of you
With your wind whipped tresses dancing wild
Meadow grasses red and gold
Gowns flowing
Clinging
And you said
To live without fear
Because there will always be something to be afraid of
But living is a limited time offer
And from the endless depths of your eyes
From under your heavy lids
You told me that I had to laugh more
Especially when at wits end
To smile when it would be easier to cry
To sing before I scream
You brought the smells of wet earth and mating flowers along in your hair
To tell me that I had to live out loud
Or forgo my voice and just grin and nod along
And you left these fragrant memories
Like careful forest breadcrumbs
So that I may always find my way
Back to truth
Despite the distractions and misplaced destinies
Regardless of whatever fumes and fashions swirl around me momentarily
I carry your wisdom
And your smile
As my charms

Fallen

When stuck in the dirty asphalt grey of a nasty cloud
I understand that its inherent silver lining is nothing more than a distant and unlikely theory
But from all the times
You were able to see
The clouds of others from the outside
And tried to help them map their escapes
You must know there is sky
Beyond your sadness

Unread

There is an anonymous sense of comfort

In the fact that you have no interest in my tidbits

Rhyming or otherwise

In the knowledge that no matter whose blood is spilled here

You will neither be witness to the carnage

Nor wrongfully implicated in the crime.