Gabled Walls

We are the In
Between
The Middle
Absorbing and reflecting back
All the inspiration they have inside

We are the Many
Around
The Gate
Herding and harnessing 
All the good they long to give

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

Grand Village

I entered school less than best-dressed
But jazzed them nonethess 
With my knowing
At home, they did their best 
My God! They were kids
What had they that I might glean
‘though, they gave me a closet of dresses
Sometimes ragged denim 
And space decorated with what kids need
Animals, charicatures, loveliness, love
I put it all on 
That my height not betray
My child’s age
I came away from those tall years
Not half bad

I went back in a dream
Early one day
Spent from the years of adult nonsense 
Wearing again ragged denim
Too short for my legs
I chose to hide foraging
In some school closet 
For someone else’s clothes 
That I’d fit in
That I’d not look to old for him
Too young for them
That they’d understand my intellect
My heart
I’m happy to say, nearing the end, I am
Not half-bad