The marvelous

A slide down an ordinary vine

into deep gardens of time and light.

‘What Is’ is not a contradiction

to what is imagined or never was;

it is in Being that a heart takes

the journey a soul cannot do alone,

so it is better with two.

A rising force making flesh

as irrelevant as paper is fleeting.

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Out, Damn spot!

I’ve become an old lady

washing the universe,

oblivious to ensuing chaos

after the machine has begun to spin.

I’m spinning too, in my seat,

with uneven breaths and far-flung dreams

that look like heaven

and smell like soap.

I’ve become what I’ve become

and there’s no taking back

a single sinking/rising moment

before skin changed shape

and dark things began to grow on the mind.

A little daydreaming

makes for fantastic spot remover.

Smoke where we slept

There’s cheese and an apple

and the air is very strange,

like the sweet smell of sheets

that should have been changed

weeks ago but time got away

and now, only smoke can cover

the ill effects of losing a body

because you don’t need to see

to feel the air rushing by

and know the end of the path

is upon you.

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They bravely faced torrential smiles

of all the people faking it for posterity.

They held jobs and washed dishes

and watched old movies for relief.

He wrote about another her

over and over, in different shades

of grief and romantic cynicism;

she wrote about him

couched in terms so he would never know

it was about him, though he thought

everything was about him in some way-

which is was, for the wrong her.

They bravely set aside cravings

for junk food as they delicately nibbled

on craft cheese and artsy beer, dreaming

of greasy ambrosia and carnal knowledge

dripping from their chins.

He stayed in his teenage room (mentally);

she kept spinning in a made-up meadow.

Solstice before maps

An embroidered lung

rests upon fluffy four-ton clouds,

heedless of peaked protuberances.

Lasso a lumberjack cradling coffee

with hair falling like comets;

ignore the missing green corduroy

and always remember

the red vest with special patterned trim.

Voyages meant something when we had

no maps or agendas.

We were never sailors but

we knew how to lick lollipops

and celebrate solstice like children amok.