Uncategorized – Page 26 – Aremyfeetofftheground

The tree

Lest I should do it wrongly,
help me.
Get a seed,
clean and viable.
In its fleshy pith,
the veins of memory.
Show me what should be
the depth,
the best earth,
the time of day,
whether sun or shade.
Give a benediction
so that, in years that I will not know,
the tree will be understood.

Say~
I will guide your hand
No~
Give me rein,
trust
Say~
Submit?
No~
Tell me of your lust
Say~
I will sing
Yes~
That will be my guide
Yes~
Together, we’ll play.

In sin

mmm…
In this late night I find,
as I lightly finger-fluff
her Brillo fur,
a reflexive drawing back,
then a recant.
I go more more slowly and lightly,
and find that my wrist is gripped and guided.
I feign resistance by hooking a thumb in the lint trap,
but she is not amused.

A walk in the cold

In a moment of daring energy, I took a rare selfie. Hi, everyone!

The coldest knight of the year

Sack of a face. All dragged down by gravity and surrendered muscles. It’s supposed to take more of them to frown than to smile, but nature disagrees. And what’s he doin’ now, that old Aqualung? Shufflin’ along the sidewalk. Dangerous as a stage player. There, he’s found the metal grate, the rising heat curtain. Marilyn Monroe ain’t around today. Takes off his cracked vinyl mitts, sets ’em on the steel, then, by God, his shoes too! Turns ’em upside down for the free warming. He has a small buckle-down suitcase that has kids’ cartoons on it. This is his seat while he warms his feet. It’s funny, you know. He’s at his ease, if you please, as he parts the stream of the flowing crowd. Made his peace, knows his destiny. Has already had his talk. The disdain is theirs. Maybe they see. Some of them stop for our Joe, and they know where to put the coins on him. One woman told him she was coming today with new mitts. If he can stand here long enough, he can store up the warmth for a while. Just yesterday, Joe got told to move on, because he made a mistake. He’d let his bitterness get the best of him, and had jumped out randomly at passers-by, scaring them. Never would hurt anyone, not really. But it’s hard. And now, there she comes. The lady with the red scarf. She waves and smiles, gives him a purple velvet bag with a drawstring top. “Your mitts, Joe”. She smiles and pats his shoulder, then walks on. Joe had nodded and hung his head. He sat a while longer before he opened the bag with cracked fingers. There were his new insulated mittens, and some other things. Some other things. He closed it quickly, put it inside his coat, and hugged himself tightly.

***

[image: https://pixabay.com/users/arttower-5337/ ]

amuse

Let me crack corn,
cozy up to the keys.
A fine morning’s coffee
turned to 6 o’clock’s wine.
A myth to be born
that nobody sees
Some saltwater toffee,
and mauve in the mind.

the weight of the world

Just beyond piled-up banks
of dirty snow,
stick trees, made of disease,
voice their last testaments,
mournful and forlorn.
And so we walk,
pushing shins and shoes forward,
keeping music’s company.
And we carry that weight.
We’re going to carry that weight
a long time.

Backyard

Be it rolling green,
white water falls,
carbon jungle,
tenement of tin,
or house of hallways
stolid and immovable,
this, your yard of Earth,
held a story.
Some would keep theirs and laugh.
Others would trade theirs for life.
And the poor in spirit, for death

Please hold

metaphor
simile
synonym
what is best
when the thing wells up
inside of you
and breath wants to be shallow
and heart feels to burst
laying down’s no cure
just be here
be here now
mine friend
mine friend
and be held

Whistler’s Brother

Do you even realize you’re doing it?

some say.

I say wut?

The whistling! The whistling!

They are peeved.

Somewhere else, I hear

I love it!

I say pardon?

and get red.

I’ll whistle your language

whatever it be

to pipe you up closer

or farther from me.