Hear the weekend
echo across the windshield,
tired mind.
Your spirit’s thriving now

Feel her touch like
nothing ever goes away.
Tired heart,
you’re healing now.

To taste love.
To feel home.
To find where one belongs.
You’re on your way, now.

–

It had to take some time and pain,
to understand why we’re this way.
But every bit of hatred that I’ve made
and every single failure to tarnish my name,

I forgave.

Shouldered weight,
the burdens of old days,
the scars that form a maze
across the universe of my skin.

The skin I let her in.
Because She wanted in.

She dances within my veins.
She is a light that will never fade.

I, drawn.

is it unnatural to have a lone tree
separate from the forest?
Is it unnatural for roots to
reject water?
Does “natural” mean easy?
fear and connection are both natural,
but fear is easier than bravery.
I’ll wrinkle up and die,
shriveling in emptiness.

Caterpillar dreams

the rain fell quickly this evening
just after you would’ve come to the porch
flowers danced as drops landed on petals
leaves of our Chinese maple hissed
it’s so big now, and I remember how
when we moved in you could see over it
to the side street across the way
now past the roof it blocks our view
so we pretend we’re in the country
instead of a subdivision on the outskirts
our neighbors wave in between the tree
and the gap still there for our walkway
it’s ideal really, not too closed in
certainly not open open enough that
everyone can glimpse our personal space
it affords us the time to bond between
that imaginary home place inside a door
and the unknown world outside beyond
screens we put up to separate them
it’s, in truth, a compromise
thats not as bad as it sounds
when the rain hisses and the lights go out

some of us
do go
mad

even after
the booze
& the laughs

the music
& the lights

the prayers
& the meds

all in a world 
that seems

to condemn
anything
real

it surprises me
many more
of us

don’t admit
we are
mad

too

Rising from the earth
Moving through trees
A thousand flickering
Stars that we can hold
In our hands 

Maybe I should’ve listened at the bee sting
between my toes yesterday evening

before bats were summoned to fly
low rings around my head

while I duck in fear and shame.
Before I crouch down,

then belly crawl across the hardwood floor.
Before I stare in awe on the other

side of the glass watching their wing
beats while they circle like a mobile

looking for a way out.
Before I begin to wonder if

I know anything at all.

I don’t give in vain
I hope God understands that
Includes tithes and dues

Because when I see
The house the Lord built turn folks
Away at the doors

You will have to prove
That this rock is a safe place
For all who seek rest

I am from a parochial school background, 9 years in elementary and 4 years in high school,
I am from living in small places and spaces that forced us to be close; going out to dinner every Saturday night for no special reason and seeing a double feature at San Francisco’s famed Fox Theatre,
I am from saving spare change in a large jug so we could shake hands with Mickey and Minnie Mouse,
I am from garlic and basicilica, raviolis and pasta and homegrown pomodoros with handmade meatballs every Thursday night,
I am from Hail Marys and Our Fathers, Good Acts of Contrition and Stations of the Cross,
I am from gotta go to work, get two jobs if you hav’ta, we all had to do it, remember tell the truth, do your best and keep your nose clean, 
I am from a tiny island of olives and lemons in the Mediterranean; and German dairy farmers and mason carpenters from the Emerald Isle,
I am from deep family roots with a sangue mio credo never to be severed no matter what!
I am from a gift of gab, garrulous laughter, a fightin’ spirit and why don’t you eat’a sumpathin’!
I am from a world of Peggy Lee’s Fever and Dean Martin’s When the Moon hits your eye likea Big Pizza Pie that’s AMORE!
I am from football pools, flying wingtips, white socks to fight athlete’s feet and pink boxes full of hot cross buns,
I am from blue ribbon elephant garlic, eggplant parmigana, frittata and sweet French smoothered in Challenge butter,
I am from are you going to write fiction or non-fiction?
I am from simple folks, post toasties and milk in MJB coffee and boxes of red vine licorice,
I am from you can do anything you put your mind to and remember we’ll always love you no matter what!