Posts for June 13, 2021 (page 8)

you put on your bathing suit
as soon as you wake up  

the mockingbird in the palm tree sings
without pausing for breath  

lizards darting across your path
stop to give you a wink  

each wave kisses you tenderly
even ones that knock you down  

the sun is a warm handshake,
a mantle across your shoulders  

the ocean in motion’s a lullaby
and you rest easy in the womb  

every pedestrian shell on the shore
is a singular masterpiece  

all is forgiven, including yourself,
repentance not required                        

Every night I walk my streets for an hour,
Both to clear my head and be healthy,
Every night I’m greeted by kind creatures,
Animals too scared of humans during the day,
I see the cutest bunnies munching on clovers,
Cautious cats enjoying their nightly stroll,
Carefree possums minding their own business,
I even see stone-like toads who don’t care for my presence,
We all enjoy the night as it is,
A cool and quiet place without human disturbances

Please don’t try to tell me
you dreamed about me, 
as if I’m some sort of tired vision 
conjured up by your tired guilt
to do a little late night haunting. 
Yawn. 
I don’t wear white. 
And I don’t believe I came to you

in the night, as you slept. 
Sounds like a bunch of baloney to me. 
I ain’t some somnambulant saint 
descended from the hills 
to deliver forgiveness. 
Shit.
I hold my grudges close to heart

and I’m wide awake and wondering
how well you knew me in broad daylight,
let alone after dark. 

What ifs are a prison
almost a simile for black holes
the way eye contact
can become a one night stand
to a singularity

i’m not another brick on the wall. 

scuffed
weathered 
faded. 

there’s more to me that meets the eye, 
if only someone took the time to look. 

but,
who on earth 
would take the time to look 
at every brick they passed by.

I have lived at the bottom
with a bloody swollen lip
and the man’s shoe 
on my neck long enough
to know that the entire ship
is sinking
and none of it is going to matter

so I stopped doing what I was doing
reaching for that infinite top
buried the given road map
burned a few bridges
cut out those people
poisoning the water

to do
and be
as I please

I thank the sunlit moon she lets me stand,
And grateful for the earth that hangs so high—
I am, I am—I’m now a grateful man.

So much I’ve cried, afloat in my tin can,
And far above the world songs pacify.
I thank the sunlit moon she lets me stand.

The piano far off played a song to mend
The broken man I’d been this long a time,
I am, I am—I’m now (a grateful man

I stand upon the moon where life is grand)
Where now I see our petty fights and cries.
I thank the sunlit moon (she lets me stand

And haply, dusty earth will let me land)
In desert seas with brackish waves of brine.
I am, I am—I’m now a grateful man.

To sound the music of her shining sands,
To play the changes over me and cry—
I thank the sunlit moon she lets me stand,
I am, I am—I’m now a grateful man!

The past is never done.

Big rings from the Navajo nation
cannot camouflage my shortcomings,
My hands look old in photographs.

What happened that the dam burst
and town halls and churches
became sunken treasure
to be dug up in B-rated movies.
Don’t think I cast the actors in this scene.
They worked hard for their craft.

I watch, big screen flickering,
base speakers pound my chest,
speaking a language I understand.

The hero dives from his boat
to battle the sherif, 
defunded and dethroned.

The heroine strikes
saving her hero
atoning for her own sins.

The Navajo have a saying,
the coyote is always hungry,
the coyote is always out there.

Who will watch the store
now that the dam burst  

Even this B-rated movie
reminds me how rain felt
the day we buried you.

The past is never done.