A faraway voice singing

about eyes like jewels and pleasure

with no limits

and it’s one more cup before you go

I stare at the cup- I have been that cup,

the last hurrah, a lost little bird

looking for a pillow for my hair

but one more cup and you’re gone

The music is plain but makes me

wild inside,

a flame settling where my heart should be

and maybe I’ll have a cup too

Whatever spirit we seem to share

has no age or season,

a love without reason

and you set the cup down and are gone

At the treeline

impatient

impetuous

with breathing

horizon far ahead

glories behind

internal stomping

before liftoff

It’s hard to find the line

where make-believe takes over

as reality is so nebulous

in its cloudiness and curiosity

when heartsong makes all else fade.

I overhear a girl at the coffee shop

manifesting her dream. It’s catchy.

If I had a lock, I would hand you my key.

It’s noisy now most of the time outside

but I live in a quiet space of thoughts

spinning like eddies on a stream

rushing after a storm. I think it’s real.

Each step a made-up word,

seeing art in a parking lot snow pile

relying on an automated decision tree

to calculate how long before flight

A roadside flower across the country

imagining a red-walled library

and more clouds and more rain

whenever the chorus begins again

Maybe we’re meant to be bog people

taking our sin in a stew

or maybe we’re water fowl in disguise

I’m ready for dreams to take me to you