Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Seeds of Optimism

If we dig up the ground we stand on
aren’t we supposed to plant new things?
Even if it takes a few seasons to bear fruit
Whether it is an intentional bulb
that comes back year after year
full of blooming potential 
or a wild seed in the wind
that sprouts from the accidental act
of exposing fertile soul
it plants something every time anyway
My grandparents planted seeds of optimism
within me throughout my life
and they always seem to sprout
just when I need them to
We aren’t supposed to continue
to watch the weeds gather
We aren’t supposed to mow the grass down
only to watch it grow back again
We aren’t supposed to cut the dandelions
if we really love honey
And I really love honey
and dandelions
and fruit
and sowing seeds
Where did I put my shovel?

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Beckoning Royal Majestic

Since I left

I ate a donut
the size of my head
Washed it down with
3 shots of espresso
Veered off the highway
to an unknown strip mall
bought a new pair of shoes
I didn't need
Missed my next three exits
Almost drove off the road
trying to remove my jacket
as sweat dripped
down my sides
twitched incessantly in my seat
finally came
deep breathing
tears spilling
from the outside corners of my eyes
rolling down the sides of my cheeks
Passed the gas station in Decatur
where I once gave a lovely old woman
the flowers I had bought

Thunderheads billow on my left
Deep Purple
with asymmetrical fractals of lightning
Sunset burning on my right
Florescence orange
beams through a foggy haze
Driving straight through
the flat plains of windmills
Headed toward an indigo sky

Let go
and find peace
you said
What the fuck does that mean
Telling me to let go
is like super gluing my hand
to a grand piano
while you proceed to sit down
and play
jazz chords

I have found fleeting
moments of peace
in my life
but they are located in the past
and there is no map
that I know of
that can help me find them
in the future
I feel like
a wild coyote
stuck in a trap
and most days
it is all I can do
not to chew off my own foot
But then again
isn't being a cautious three legged dog
better than being a car chasing
dead one

I have lost all my sense of direction
from insistently following
thoughts clouded with fear
Instead of fearlessly diving
into the eye
of the 


Fear makes me no smarter
than a monkey
If I would just let go of the goddamn banana
maybe I could pull my hand out of the bottle

I have completely lost track of time
Random electric flashes
bring me back to the present
illuminate my way
revealing midnight cumulus tendril fingers
that stretch over head
Reaching for me
Wrapping around me
This storm front has no clear end
and I have forgotten where it began
The only problem is
when I am flying solo
I tend to get lost easily
but maybe that isn't really a problem
Knowing where I am going
has never brought me to any place
I have wanted to stay
and this unknown
doesn't really bring me panic anymore
I worry
that I don't know
the difference between
calm and numb
because the one thing
they have in common
is the stillness
and chaos still seems to be
the heroin of my existence

At the end of every drug trip
is the dry up
At the end of every road trip
is the quiet
Maybe I will find peace
in the silence
if I just keep driving
and allow this storm
to swallow me up