We Slay

May I melt into you at sunset, when our day is done, and the deep — delicious, as a buffet — lies before us?

Will you walk with me into that starred-space, wish upon the seconds with me, and show me what courage in the dark can accomplish?

Battle with me — and sometimes, for me — fellow-dreamer, in those in-between hours, then soothe my mind when I wake to the day

So again I may slay 

Talent

What say we keep walking
In tranquility
You and me

See what we see
A new day today
A better way

Exhale a time or two
In hope the adrenaline
Flows

Lay bets that being a true friend
Will in the end
Find us fine and dandy

And New and Final
Darlin’
Can we?

At The Bell

Fling that thing to the Moon
That thing that’s ailing you
Red flags, white flags, too

It’s not a day too soon
Let’s leave crazy to loons
Whose flightiness consumes

Consider this day new
Its call goes out to you
To sing the champion’s tune

We Begin

An hour, now, clutching the cold morning coffee, an acrid-filled, comfortless cup.

Still dark.

Consumed, we, with what’s bearing down at the door — bellowing “more, more, and more!”

Its roar.

Will this new blanket be warm enough, this day sustain hope beyond the front-porch light?

Windows fogged.

Still, dawn’s bright, there, without, meets a heat — long-stored and stoked — here, within.

We Begin.

Just Like Yesterday

Were I to wear cowgirl boots on New Year’s Eve’
Would they walk me to your shine?

Were you to spin 70’s tunes on your record player
Would your dancin’ feet meet mine?

What did you wish for on your birthday without me
A shared path for us to find?

What I begged of the Ghost of Christmas Past
A machine to turn back time….

Our Finest Hour

Our finest hour

And, Goddamn it, lift your voice

Shriek to me from out of the grey

It has been six years and six months to the day

Set aside your pen

Unpoison your wellspring

Harmonize with me

End the endless justification of silence

Of the dark

Lived lives trump safe lives

Remember?

A Making

A going has to come, I know
An acquiescence to the shortened days
A refusing to refuse the night

I’ll clothe myself in skin-tone colors
I will stop hearing creation’s groan silenced
I’ll start feeling good, acting great, again

Original Thought Credit: Nina Simone, “Feeling Good”