Is It Poetry

How can it be, the hour's calm
Despite all that is happening here
The beat of the world
Foreboding and loud
Yet the chickadee sings its sweet note?

Wherefore the whims of the wind
At ev'ry map dot, it seems
Churning, marching
Fanning the pain
While the porch chime resonates fine?

What of the flames that burn so
Blue, yellow, orange, then to red
Smoke-filled eyes from the North
Westward heart deeply charred
As the core of your Earth sleeps content?

Village in Tibet

Still
The most fixed of hearts
Vision-filled
Blinded not
Having drifted into the paths
Of many
Too many
Oncoming realities

Sometimes
The most skilled oracle
Caution-filled
Gifted so
Cannot shapeshift the wills
Of we
Predestined we
Hope artists

Move

What is the loveliest thing
I Am that

Who is the most humble One
I Am He

Where does the Earth need the Sky
I Am there 

The way we must live to fight well
I Am how

The reason that they will hear hope
I Am why

The now to remember your strength
I Am when

All Gone

The gods seized my feathers
And gave me in exchange
gossamer wings
Because they knew that I must fly
You stole my shoes 
And mocked my innermost:
“dance, will you?”
Because you planned to watch me writhe

No need any more

Wishing, or worse

A third arm

Ambient days and nights every time

Perfect Puerto Rican coffee

Every time

Porch swings that don’t creak 

A squirrel who’ll stay long after lunchtime

And you 

Open eyes forbid this

But I still break for magic

“Believe”

I remembered I went and read to her
Her Cinderella stories that ruined my mind
But made hers fly

I believed 
My presence, my words, my faith
Held power

I was taught to believe,
And I damn well believed
Their poison would bring her back

She’d remember 
Wake up
And fly back to me

“Believe”
A whisper to me in the mid of Night
Made my feet fly

I believed
I knew that this faith 
Held power

Out the door
To his side
To tell of The story

How we need not fear
He’ll wake up
He’ll fly back to us

In each moment
It is said 
Possibility lives, breathes and flies

I must play The Realist 
And tell the Story
That holds power

You can’t claim
A single truth
Unless you first Believe

To you then, license inures 
Hope wakes up
And flies back to you


Death By Media

Miss me, please
And promise me too
That you’ll not miss me too much

Wonder of me
And when time permits
Step out and send me a note

I am convinced 
Life holds far more 
Meaning than can be shared here

Dine with me
Come find with me 
The world uncurated, hope