Picket Fences

The white-washed picket fence has blown open again, inviting the varying voices that be

An opportunity, this open door, this moment, and I stick my snowy-white foot in its way

Ajar it will stay, for I’m bolder today and my eyes see the truth ‘neath the paint chipped away

Thirty Percent

A fence may draw the eye, asking, will you act as friend?

What when we keep the Others out, what will that make us then?

Can’t we, won’t we alter fate of each whole soul, alike;

A fence with strong and welcome gate, a fence not stained by white.


Within the deep green foliage 
I see colors promising
To burst up through the day’s wreckage 
And say that all’s okay
But I’m telling you 
I tell myself
All they are 
Are liars


Do you wish it weren’t so blue
Or even bluer still 
Are you wondering just how vast
And just how deep the thrill
If you stripped off the leather 
With the stigma of our skin
And charged, full speed, down that Great Bluff
Reversing that Great Sin