Fix-it Man

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I tried, I swear I tried
To stop loving the Blue Mountains you swept me away to
To stop seeing them through your grey-green eyes

I prayed endlessly
Extend your hand once more to me down those towered hiking trails
Let me see heaven in your saunter again

I allowed foreign kisses
Fill this Orion-shaped wound, I vowed — still I stand, hollow
Waiting for your fix, for our paths to merge as you promised

Bring on The Day

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Sometimes pre-dawn feels like a SOS
An awakening, born out of distress

It is said back pain and a broken heart
Are the tools with which we turn life to art

If the angst you carry feels as though it’ll kill you
Then for certain, baby, morning holds your breakthrough

Melanin in Me

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Don’t be sad for my curves where there often aren’t
They feel fine on my long German bones

The Irish-ilked will in me fist-fights eternally
With my most straightforward Grecian nose

Would that it be soon my silvery strands, earned with my Norwegian blood
Make merry with my Polka feet

Low Barometer

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You’ve bored me
Made me headachy

Your hostility
Posing as humid tranquility

Asking here anonymously
What everyone else, unafraid to make themselves known
Already knows

But I answer thee
I’m still fit to garden and be poetry
Though you’ve pained me

A pain in my ass, a pain in my joints
Merely temporarily

Creeping, wrinkled, you’ll continue
Pettily

As It Was

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Living must be

A constant cleaning of the crimes in the outermost corners of outbuildings on the back forty of whatever land we’re fortunate to shepherd

A diligent organizing of each and every backshelf, closet, drawer, and centerpiece of these blessed bodies of truth we call Home Sweet Home

An earnest sweeping of matter that ultimately, doesn’t matter, but made its way to the front stoop and attempted to exert squatter’s rights

An eventual Welcome sign placed humbly, breathlessly, on each door we’re otherwise prone to leave sealed up tight, that we would embrace again

Creation must be

Moment Lovers

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Step one, get weird with it. This belongs to you all, after all.

Step two, present yourselves all ways, every day, at the same time.

Step five, step five?! Yes, step five — there’s nothing linear or logical of this.

Step five, show the canvas of man what these years of kinship mean.

Step six, dip your brush in cool, cool water, then choose the color violet. Or orchid, because you are bold, or you want to be.

Step three, make a space in advance, or in the moment, or not at all. The whole Earth was prepared for you.

Step four, never end before you’ve finished, or for forever, whichever comes first. Last.

Step seven, relay your love for The All of them. Take responsibility and fight again tomorrow with the sunrise.