Crysalis

It’s the crysalis that I find painful.

There’s no room for words.

Too focused on becoming to see what is

About to emerge.

What if I told you that here in the dark

We are not so far apart,

We who use our shoulders and spines to push against what confines

Our dreams.

As safe as it is inside the crysalis,

To stay is to die.

Struggle makes me strong

Enough to break free.

Let it be.

The Cold Makes Me Lonely

I have to interrupt the chickens by making my own sound: fingers tapping out my inner state on a small keyboard.

The chickens make a lot of sense as they carry on converstations and follow social rules,

it seems.

I watch them from the kitchen window as they share with some doves but not with others.

Why?

Better than vision is to listen to them speak to one another on the patio where they gathered

to get out of the rain.

Tonight they will all sit close together in their little house on the upper level: the loft.

The door will be closed against intruders

and they will sit as close to one another as they can.

Listen To Me!

I want to scream it in the streets:

Listen to me!

I don’t even know exactly what I want to say,

But this yearning to be heard is rumbling

around like thunder and I’m learning

that I have a right to be alive

simply because I am.

I want to sing.

Listen to me! Please.

It’s a good song that will make you

feel

something

and when you find out what that is you will want to sing too.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I want to whisper

purple and rose phrases

and take you through the stages of waking up.

It is good to voice the life inside me

because it is love and love needs somewhere to go.

Listen to me.

It will make you

feel

something.

Who Am I To Argue With A Bird?

Raven flies through periwinkle skies,

Beck’ning me to see tomorrow through her eyes.

So I take a peek as she soars

through an open door on the horizon.

And there I am ! Stronger than I’ve ever been

dancing with an indigo lion.

He’s all aglow in his golden halo,

and who am I to argue with a bird?

Now I know some say fancy is for fools

and I ought not waste a sober moment.

But there I am! Stronger than I’ve ever been

dancing with an indigo lion.

As he glides by my side he say, “Don’t be shy.”

And we dance till the new sun is shining,

yes we dance till the new sun shines.

Oh I take a peek as raven soars

through an open door on the horizon.

She beckons me to see tomorrow through her eyes,

and who am i to argue with a bird?