Into the thicket

I saw a king with a wooden horse. What does a king need a wooden horse for? Can’t he trust a regular horse to do what he needs?

Of course I could get a normal horse to do what I need, but have you ever seen a real horse crafted as finely as this?

I had to admit I had never seen a finer horse in life or in media.

The wooden horse, he explained, lacked the common comfort of a soft living horse but when he pursued a fox or a rabbit into the thicket there was no bone blood or fur to tear on the sharp thorns.

But the heat, the connecting of life, the opportunity for both to enjoy the victory. Where is the passion you share?

I am king, if I want passion, I command it There is nothing I lack.

So as I talked a fox darted across the path into the thicket and the king went galloping past. The king tore through the thicket in search of the fox. Even as his kingdom dwindled and crumbled around him.

We

Tumbling into tepid pools of tyranny
Anxious aberrations awaken another
Cutting the collective consciousness
Into an instant illusion of insecurity
But better breeds bear the burden
Of overzealous ownership
Forced to forget the freedoms
They once favored

Slippers

The click and pick of the needle
Why don’t you sit over here next to me
I’ll show you how in out make a loop and pull through.
If you change the way you pull or change the loop you can create just about anything.
Grandma says crochet work stops time. She picks up the needles and yarn. She plucks the picture out of the air in front of her and replaces it with our Christmas slippers.
The marker tickles my feet but I like seeing the print the trace makes. Imperfect feet are best warmed in matching imperfect slippers. Maybe I’ll learn how
Once my feet have stopped growing each year and her feet begin shrinking every year, I could make her slippers. Keep her feet warm. Remind her that I’ll be there for her every year as long as
she needs me.

Pedal

The car fades in the distance devolved into my bicycle I ride from the smooth pavement of the parking lot to a pock marked stretch of road Caltrans seems to have forgotten.
Up the hill, I ascend. Apartments transform into town homes transform into McMansions transforming into empty space. Tired now, follow the center-line.
Don’t give up. Pedals pump like pistons
Pure Power.
Asphalt becomes gravel becomes dirt. Re-energized by nature. Air Sun and Soil recharging my skin.
Now atop the hill I survey my kingdom. Sweat blurs the scene and smooths out jagged edges of urban spires. Sun falls behind me and I descend again. Prepared for what lies ahead.

It’s you not Me

I see
Everyone
I hear
Everything
Do you see her
Drink about to spill?
Do you hear that
Hushed conversation meant only for lovers?
I see
Too much
I focus
On the experiences of others
Empathy
Fear of who I am
I concentrate
On everything else
Drown out the voices
You will never be as good as them.

Precious Embers

Life begins with a though. A spark a flame then faster burns the blinding birth an awakening the consumption of fuel wood is stacked upon dwindling ashes until the heat has served its purpose
the embers linger then extinguish and ashes mark the spot where once we made our fire.

Cosmic dreams

Blank frames of open lullabies descending  
without knowing shapes ascending
 into the heavens peacefully darkening
 memories gone by stars exploding
 till into her arms warmth increasing
leaves pain itself decreasing

Tears fears and smiles

If I told you what's on my mind a hundred showers would never get you clean. If showed you my single tear, we'd wash it all away. Wash it all away. But I've given up on tears. That's a suit i've forgotten how to wear. I'd give you a thousand smiles. Like a warm blanket wrapped around my fears. Into this morning we'd walk arms outstretched to take the whole wold in. I know any minute now the rain would come and see my cheers, and wash them all away, wash it all away. But gardens can't grow without rain and tears. A life can not be lived without hope and fears. New life springs best from baren soil. A field wiped clean with tools and toil. I close my eyes to see your smile. It's a face I haven't seen in a while. If I showed you what's in my heart you'd hear laughter too. A grin would stretch across the sky and we'd laugh it all away laugh it all away.

Work in progress

I noticed you soon as I got there
Your sparkling eyes, your long black hair.
We were swept away time left us alone
Time to say godnight, call you on the telephone.
Together now most every night.
A smile a laugh make everything alright.
My world was starting over, never thought I'd fall for anyone,
But you weren't just anyone, and now your gone.
Chorus
You've got my heart, don't let it go.
You've got my heart, I miss you so.
You've got my heart, you've got to leave me. Giving you this heart, that part was easy.

Windmills

Windmills

I stand alone yet I stand among hundreds. Just like me all spinning the same direction or not spinning at all.

Newer models come in. Bigger, faster, more powerful, better in every respect. But they don’t replace me. They just add to the power we all create.

I’m not even the oldest, my solid body towers over the tiny metal framed old-timers. They seemed so much bigger when I was being constructed. Now their weakness is full bare before my eyes.

If I want to spin

I have to face the wind.

Why do so many of us not face the wind. They are content to let the wind hit their side or even their back. Not contributing anything. Why bother they say, it will just wear us out faster.

And compared to the group my power is insignificant. I will keep my face to the wind. I know my place. I am one, I am hundreds and without me there is nothing here but wind.

Maybe

I have been writing this past week but I haven't felt like sharing it. I have just been trying to process some things. so, rather than leave a blank page, here is another poem I wrote for my
Ethnic studies class.

Maybe
19 years ago sitting at the edge of the sandbox in a new school I read my books.
Last pick for kickball?
Odd teams
Back to the sandbox. The hardy boys were always good at what they do. Maybe I’m just good at reading.

14 years ago The barn. Face to Face. Man those guys with the shaved heads and wife beater shirts are scary. Greg and Steve content to sit in the back.
I need to feel
the energy of the crowd.
Push forward. Crowd surfing, floating along outstretched hands. Maybe I am beginning to find my place.

9 years ago Wish the air conditioning wasn’t broken. Maybe I should have taken my English class more seriously. At least then I wouldn’t have made my mom cry
when I told her I wouldn’t be walking.
School was a social experiment but I guess I forgot the teachers had other opinions. Maybe I just have to stumble along.

4 years ago I’m going to be a father? I can barely take care of myself Do I have love to give?
I’m going to be
a father.
All the love I have is yours. Fear of the unknown chokes me. One foot forward just like any other step.
Maybe it’s time to mellow out.

Today I’m graduating college. Chemical Engineer, father, husband? Weren’t you in band with plaid pants and a thrift store shirt that said Earl? I’ll still shop at goodwill.
I’m still punk
I guess. How many 27 year olds do you know that are just graduating from college and have two children and a wife?
Maybe I won’t embarrass my daughters too much.

Extatic crisis

Ecstatic crisis

Get up. Outside the light dusting of night snow masks the turmoil she sees as she peers through the fog soaked window pane bombs crash exploding in her mind reminding her of the day’s adventure.

Her supposed companion Timex alarm clock has betrayed her trust again. Not even the icy caress of a too hasty shower slows her pace. Lipstick in the purse hair dripping, like a tangled train steaming out of the station. Rush out the door.

Did I let the dog out? Wish I would have grabbed a piece of fruit on the way out. Cars and lights by some miracle yield to her will. Mom? Yeah be there in twenty. Wish she hadn’t sighed like that at the end. How long? Six months, a year?

Airport, there’s always plenty of yellow zones drop ‘em off and get outa here. But they sure make it a lot harder for you to park there.

Running now. Glad she forgot to put on any jewelry and left her purse in the car. She stares back at the annoyed TSA screener as she breezes through the gate without even checking whether the bells sounded, “You are a winner. Please delay your flight by passing through here ten more times until were satisfied the rivets in your jeans aren’t a threat”

The door from the plane sends its mass of bodies tumbling slowly through the opening. Find mom and dad they look better than I do. Slowly almost the last, the tired soldier hobbles down the ramp to her. If it wasn’t for the crutches he’d look exactly like she remembered.

It’s good to be home sis.

It’s good to have you home.

I am going to my in-laws now. It is a 3 hour drive to their house. The girls are already there. I am excited to see everyone but I am scared to be alone in the car for three hours with my thoughts. I seriously entertained the idea of getting a little buzzed before I left but legal and safety negatives aside, when the buzz wears off the problems are always there staring at you on the other side. Just not worth it. I've got all my CDs and the rental car we still have has sirius radio,