I loved the farm in the most unruly way
I used its dirt and biked on its hills
I hid in its corners and gathered rocks from its floor
I cried in its rain
And sank in its mud
I got hit with its sticks and bled on its core
I was drowned in its isolation
And fished in its waters
I coughed out its tragedy
And rummaged in its generational trash
I danced with its ghost and felt the pain of its slumbers
I ran barefoot on gravel and fell asleep in its trees
I watched knives cut skin and belts bruise
I felt trauma in all its aspects
And kneeled down for a savior
I worked
Forced to stay up at kitchen tables for screams
Yelling
Don’t you dare fall asleep
I plastered deer feet
I played baseball
Ate pears
And ran for my life
I grew to prefer independence
My outside demeanor got hard
My innocent trust disappeared
And I knew
I wasn’t part of this family

Keep it concealed,

            after Czelaw Milosz and James Wright  

Two small herons with yellow feet
circle their nest.  A fish flips
into the air.  I am fully awake. 
Dragonflies flutter, blue, lime green. 
Water striders spiral.  Cypress knees
cluster around their mothers.  I feel
the sun’s heat.  The great white heron’s
neck never straightens, its wings pull it,
like Icarus, to earth where it touches
a branch, then soars again.  My heart
opens.  A bullfrog croaks, once. 
In green shadows, trees, moss, leaves
stand tall. I have not wasted my life.

the beautiful has a way
of calling out
it’s not as much 
    leave the world behind
as
     come out, into the world
what’s beyond the boundaries
explore
remember who I am, presently
not that yesterday person

The vibrations ease into me, soothing my bones
I stare into the black abyss ahead
the only illumination from the spotlights on the metal beast

Conversation has come to lull.
I fight the urge to be drug deep into the darkness
My body fights to maintain control

But soon it’s too much
that mysterious feeling
the one where you lose control of your mind
and you fade into sleep

The exotic Mimosa,
with flowering, fragrant,
soft silky coral red flowers,
folding green leaves,
a natural expression of art;
one of Mother Nature’s
most exquisite
and beautiful bouquets,
with a tropical elegance,
that evokes a beauty
like a vibrant rainbow.

my tongue
thick with insult and fizzy spit
pours at the limbs
of someone i will not remember and choose to not know.

i circle thumbs to avoid chewing them off.
teething at my big age. livelihood left at the mercy of hunger and guilt. i will be swift. my crooked teeth will slice to kill.

once blood is spilt;
once i am stained.
i practice restraint, wrapped as a baby

in plastic

i refrain.

soul for Satan 

That’s how long you stood in front of me.
Enough to change the directory of my day.
“Who the fuck wears orange?”

Knight in shining armor
do you want me to save you?
You know you owe me…

Riddle me this,
how does three months of you and I
turn into three minutes of pure torture?

You and three friends
Me and three co-workers
three hours of hearts beating outside my chest.

Honey, if I told you,
I never want to see you again,
would you find me one more time?

a dozen framed sunflowers hang behind my bed–
sketches, pastels, acrylics, screen-print on rice, an oil,
by artists young, not as young, of various histories.
today, I enter gatewood-waddell’s. three watercolored
beauties looking round and about. oh, my dears, i say,
and remind them, we face west. long past time clytie
got over apollo. but they remind me to halt
my pessimistic ways. turn us all back to the east,
to this new day. forever we must follow,
forever gifts of nature.
forever magicical.