Internal Flight

perhaps song inside me will be played out
it will come,
when it comes.
all
of me is right
here.
how can I help?
it is a forest
in focus,
how some standing branches
pass by the other
as you move by,
closer they go
and spread and change
only when you’re walking
past.
Perhaps my song sings out
when nobody is looking
now, until we remember it-
Oh, that was -you!-
and whatever encompasses my wrists
does not matter
because you can’t hear those
after you’ve walked past
and I’m sitting below some green canopy
of rustling mind.

golden vibe
puts money to rest
I am the sunflower,
and you the stem.
Then I am the soil
and you the thin roots
and then I am a glimmering talon
and you the feathers
all in blue-

here we are
walking past another sitting song,
voices
arch out and in and directionlessly smooth
dipping only with elasticity, saying
you are the sunflower
and I the stem,
you the soil,
and I the roots
thin and tendrilously smooth
you the talons and glimmering eye
and I the feathers
tearing at an unmeshable blue.
taddle, paddle
ear, here,

‘ere
wakes the toes of giant
buried ‘neath a sloping mountain
that must never be moved
you sing in warning
knowing all too well
it will
when it will
at exactly the right
corner of time.
Pluck, pluck
the petals of your mind
gilded only to your eyelashes’ content

Swim.
this is your song
as much as it is mine
and you know how it goes
as much as I know
how to follow
putting things
from the left
behind and
over to the right
and then nowhere at all,
our song is a cloud
on a mountain
and I let you wail
let you wail
let you wail
because it comforts us all
to know perfection is
imperfect.

and if we found it
it would be empty.
it would be a great chest
covered in the dryest blackest
dust
and when cleared would reveal a
long broken lock
that perhaps had never been
shut
perhaps had never
meant to be filled.

What have you found to love?
past fingernails?
past split ends?
I rely,
I decay,
I declare
contradictions
so

respect.
Life will find you
in your happiness-most
moments.
that’s all I can
declare.

Block

Break through, she said.
I’m waiting for the break through.
Third story light hums like the tides
I’m a warped ceiling, see,
the incamdescents are stuck shiny
in plastic waves or else
I’d answer to the bookshelves
again above my head. I’m carpeted, too
I just don’t know it yet
until I shut my eyes in the dark.

What a pitiful color
manufactured. beige, off-white, tan
It’s the color of indulgent boredom
feigning intetest in all the unexplored
eyelids.
It’s like closing a book after chapter 1.
Or maybe before that.
you know the story ends
except for crutch of surprise
you’re out of this place
again.
I’m waiting for the break through.
I’m waiting for the break through.
I’m waiting for the moon
and the clean morning,
Hiding from what they say again.

But why
Again and again and now
we practice pleasing the sun?
It’s alright, as long as
you think like that I’m waiting
for the break
through.

After all, the grass is always
greener in the day.

nothing?

Do not stop me
I’m
writing words that
make no sense
and this is the mood I’m in
Hey, Self
Yes?
What are you going to do
about yourself?

Nothing.
Nothing?
Yes. I mean
I will continue to live
this life
the way you continue
to walk.
The sun is bright
and golden,
breathing light in the corner
of my eyes
and accentuating curves
in the quadrangle grass.

When did the branches
become so bare?
You watched them
but the last fell
when sanity dropped
and you were worried
about the trouble.
I saw a shirt today
it said
“you thought the world was ending.
you’re wrong.
We’re just taking over.”

Stop the fight,
I’m getting out
I’ll see you on the field
ready for the challenge
but not for blood,
no, a human fight,
tongues and brains
but not cannibals,
no, a human fight
they were right
you’re zombies
and diction is lost on us

What is a man
if he fears the pen?
I ask you,
What is a man
if he draws at a word?

Yes, I understand
it tingles beneath my skin
and what will I do?

this.
I will do this.
Entangled in words
I have not spoken,
I am a man who
wishes to hold the pen
to understand letters
to eat words and
be words and
breathe them and bleed them
and leave them in the snow
where a wandering bloke
will find them and change
the world

type

All you need to do
is let your fingers fly
around like little bats
and you’ll weave life
out of letter squares
or
you have the option
to experience living
for the first time
over and over again
like the light of morning
streaming through you

rain soaked window

the light coming from the rain soaked window
was soft
as the patting on the frame
the old metal frame angling only glass
and bits of water
that keep falling
falling to the window
so full of open air
welcomed slow rivers
down its heart
just the same
as the trees
slowly losing color
from the ridges
and gently rocking in bowing wind
rain, rain
and wavy window
sparkles in the palm of the room
wish on peace
pass by here
transparent and ignited
in the soft light
of a soft day

I remember just who I was

Watching the road bounce up and down before me with the glazed morning sky unfolding, I let everything be what it wants. From the side I see everybody in their back to school rush. I remember just how that felt.
I was the smell of the inside of a new lunchbox, nicely hung uniforms and waiting at the bus stop, I was timid, blue, frightened of the new teacher, scared into silence, maybe I’d disappear. I was that top button always buttoned, hot recess sun and plastic chairs, spelling books and flashcards. I was jumpers, skorts, shorts and stressed parents, new beginnings and the start of a long year. I was a migrant, a pair of eyes without a mouth, a body for granted, thinking about my cat at home, I was applesauce and turkey rolls, macaroni and cheese, new black shoes, button downs, and wishing for the window seats. I was the face in the window of the school bus, ordinary time, the rut of a routine, smiling face, empty heart and dirty fingernails. I was a little backpack with just one book, a note, a name, and a number, I was had to pee, a coin in a wishing well, and wondering about my sister.

because I wanted to write something

A lot of people tell me
whether they realize it or not
that they are not truly happy.
Well, I’ll tell you what I have learned about it
from what I have read, experienced, pursued,
I can tell you that
happiness, joy, elation
are something you create
your feelings come from inside of you
they are made out yourself
they are the fabric of your thoughts
when you think something makes you happy
chances are
you are happy
in that moment
so to be happy past this moment
it will not be
what you buy
or what you achieve
that will keep you happy for life
no
you have the choice to be happy
instead you could choose to brood
or could choose to hate yourself.
but this leads to anger and definitely not happiness.
So how do you become spontaneously happy?
Well, first of all
know yourself.
this is nothing more than
knowing you are human
nothing more
nothing less.
a link to the mysterious
in your body.
You are unique
because you are not anybody else
beside you
That way you can
second,
Accept yourself.
This is an important part of being happy
when you accept who you are
both inside and out
physical and not physical
seen and unseen
you can trust yourself
you will respond the way you are
you will have control over your mind
because you are in sync with it
and that is third
being in control
or rather,
being your mind
the way you were meant to be
and on top of your feelings
this will have strange side effects
like accepting other people
being generous and
feeling better overall
maybe even lower stress a bit
now that you are this way
it is easier to see through yourself
and reaching out to people becomes much more successful
because
while finding happiness for yourself
is wonderful
there are entire communities
that can use people like you
unafraid to be simply happy
and you

can never love too many people

…watching my smile float by…

so unemotional
so still
in my soul
that nothing needs to come out
right now
so I’ll put this strange peace into words
the peace I kept covering over
this entire time
the non-flickering flame
still burning
in the summer heat
in the summer routine
of sunset laziness
and quiet circles in my brain
while the dragonflies finally come out
those little dinosaurs
flitting around my toes and fingers
playing in the greenest grass
a basic and free endeavor
content with
watching my smile float by
in what I see