Untouched

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So much talk and so many voices

Weighing down and weighing in

But still unanswered to my mind

How many light years and lifetimes

Given how alike and unlike our hearts

Are you from touching me

Miss the Forest

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I think I comprehend the incomprehensible, the reprehensible, I think.

I guess the fog plans to stay and behave as more than a mere misbehaving vapor, I guess.

Certainly courage or cowardice or the wordless touch of one true friend will keep me from certainty.

Samaria

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I live on a lonely block

Hope and Delusion my only neighbors

They never talk to one another

Something about a falling out many millennia ago

So I, the conciliatory soul, am the go-between

And am making much progress

Sometimes they loan me sugar

All-too-willingly, it seems

But I gotta pay it back quick

Else they threaten all-nighters

Dissonant music at full volume

“Is it worth it?” I often ask aloud

They reply in unison, of course

Certain Genus

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Find me in the reedy, agonizing greens and violent violets I never thought would hold my wings again.

Breathe with me, I beg you, as I flail, purposely so, deciding between the strange new Summer air or the viscous depths that would welcome me.

Pray for my soul, please, that the beautiful others, lost or prowling, don’t know I’m a threat or delicious at all.

Endangered

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“Believe,” he admonished, five times again and again, from on high, living on bugs and breadcrumbs, singing some other language to me.

And speaking of crumbs, of fallen-food not given, I knew I’d better believe in something, since such was my fate.

He stopped then -they always do- and took away his scraps and sweetly sung psalms -they always will.

So she, a magical historian of a thing, in sweet song too, recounted, “Disappear. Disappear. Disappear.”

Photo Credit: Tiger R., age 9