Insomniac: Stage IV

Morning yawns and stretches its arms  
To part the curtains of night.
Tired midwife to light from
From her expectant horizon
The earth inches towards her morning.
Clean, cool fingers weave threads
Of sweet perfumed wisteria and more
Unnameable long forgotten blooms.
Clean and combed through dew damp air.
Buds nodding on their stems,
Draw blood from my veins with thorns
Like cat claws after a scare.

Suddenly clouds burst and showers fall
To save dry backyards and crops
Now cut away from the view unguarded
From natures reach over treetops.
Lost years and fences already raised
Desperate for mending and tattered.
Puddled earth evicts worried worms,
Plucked by late rising birds from their
Broken homes.

While in my solitary confinement,
Within an escapable white picket fenced
Yard, I wave farewell to school busses
And to the workers who clean up the world.
Alone to remember cubes and corners
Push pinned photos, plaques of platitudes,
Email boxes and bustling buildings
Where tight schedules and bright slides
Bore like radiation into the heads of
Departments of the thoughtless and benign.

My wooden porch now a port of call for
Rain long overdue for such late afternoons.
I’m stuck in an everlasting April spring day.
As sprinklers timed soak the lawn
The sun’s last rays motion with
Long, scolding fingers at
Now unknowable faded faces
Trapped like tonight’s fish for supper
In this morning’s papers.

Laid out on a communal table
Where wisdom and innocence
Convene to discuss the current
Events of still births and deaths.
Hands engaged with wild gestures
Waving forks and spoons for effect -
Interrupting pointless chatter to flatter
And cut meat from a fatted calf.
Everyone silenced by politeness,
Knifing right through the heart of the matter.

The evening’s news flickers
Behind the puffery of shades
Hiding shadow boxes inside windows.
Like a sober fly in a glass of whiskey
Wet wings legs spinning drowned
The hands of its god take it down.

I walk with solitude as she unwraps
Her arms thick with compassion
Beckoning me inside for consolation.
Using one wave to cast away
Anyone who might see me crying.
We sit together on a dark park bench
Watching every creature under suburban
Skies that all fit on a single broom stick.
If no one bothers then no one counts
Things yet unseen, like angels
Atop a pin head. Yet we must believe
That stars still sparkle until the dark unveils
Who’s home and left behind
To sing unearthly cries of grief.

Arched branches bow green
Soft leaves shake and flow
From willows left weeping
While night whispers to me:
Please save us all.
As the trees fade to black,
Wind whips at my face.
From the fringes, howls
Break into my mind.
I can no longer breathe
hidden and weak
In the between
With these heavier things.

Findness

“Let go of your ego.
Send it up up and away!
For a while, anyway.”
Opening my each
Of my eyes I wonder
Did anyone even notice
I’d gone up
Ascending into the clouds
Like a bird or a plane.
I’m looking down
At unmapped topography.
Memories of me:
Images of a wolf running
Through unknown forests
Below the tree canopy;
A blue heron
Flying from the pine tops
Without much energy.

Alone I melt
Like ice cream
In a root beer float.
Red polkadot swim suit,
Yellow rubber bathing cap
Careful eyes look out
Upon blue pools.
Back in the days
When the evening news
Was on paper and
When a date meant
Sipping from the same
Soda with two straws
Across a white and
Gold booth table.
As our eyes lock over the
Last sip, how the
Sweetness lingers
At the tips of your
Tongue and fingers.

I search for my
Self in the daily mirror
But the image is
Backwards and not
Of me. So I peek behind
The frame for a part
Of myself I’d left for dead.
Forgetting to write up
The homework of my experience
Innocence in ink,
Double spaced on lined paper:
My interview and questions.
I won’t forget to
Acknowledge and thank
you in my notes.
But the postcards sit
Unstamped and unposted
I’m at home, heart forever
Elevated above my head.

What’s on your heart today?

Leave the heavyness
On the floor beside you
And let air pour in the door slightly open and without loss
Tell me what weighs on your heart.


Nature herself laughs and claps
With thunderous air. Leave your cares
Beneath the eaves and breathe
Inside a forest where you litter
The needle bed with despair.

Allow a friend to sit a bit, just a spell,
Without knowing they’re too close - uncomfortable, hidden in your space.
You know that strange feeling better than black ice.
Unexpectedly, a hand lifts to your cheek
Feel the warmth of surprise.

Who’s to say you didn’t get enough done
Or too few fed today. Fruitfulness forgets to smile
Productivity can’t stand your tanned cheeks
Bright with the sun’s slaps and pinches
Punished for every hand not wrung with worry.

In tombs with spelling errors in the epitaphs
Written in alphabets from the class
We skipped that spring when nothing
Not the rain or the tilted statues
In our overgrown gardens mattered.

What’s on my heart? Did you question
Or simply forget to ask you as you implied
I might dance away from this house,
Where in my delight I fed your soul
With the leftovers of the moonlight.