My work it shall begin

We are safe because we want to feel safe

And afraid because we allow ourselves to fear

All throughout the life I’ve know I’ve accepted what was

Hardly ever asking myself the real question, that is

What exactly do you want to be

Do you want to be loved? Feared? Saved?

Am I making myself clear?

Like standing by the railing of a ferry boat adrift

Looking out into the fog of early mornings spent

Nervous though I was, a child full of dread

Patiently awaiting the comfort darkness fed

Full of all my longings, too scared to make a sound

Reeling for the guidance, waiting to be found

But it wasn’t until I spoke the words

Which have placed me here today

And I wouldn’t place the blame where there is nothing left to blame

I could have got out long before that house we knew burnt down

I could have run away, what’s more

I could have made a sound

Though fear and faith are binding

For a child guilt is hard

And safety commonly looks like

A smile from afar

But now I’m counting crows, who’ve eaten all the crumbs

And as for beanstalks stalking, I’ve cut down every one

To grandma’s house goes Red, she no longer has to run

The piglets in their cabin, I hear they’re having fun

Released into the willows are fairytales Grimm

Now safe my inner child’s sound

My work it shall begin

Put me in a coma

Put me in a coma

relieve me of this sense

Kill me with the karma

you use in your defense

In this life I’ve been lucky

as quiet as a mouse

The 9 I’ve since departed

like kitten’s claw a blouse

This pine scented aroma

of Hitchcock and suspense

Pawing at the dharma

crows circle in pretense

For once I thought the nut house

a home to mice and men

This state of being’s smartened

this boy’s escaped the pen.

With all stones cast

With all stones cast

There’s a pot still boiling

And a kettle left black

There’s a house still standing

With thinly cracked glass

There’s a kink in the line

With a reel still intact

There’s a spell in the ether

Waiting to be cast

With all stones thrown

There’s a hole full of flesh

There’s a crack in the arrow

There’s an angry protest

Each body a story, color, and time

Each arrow head sharpened, pristine, and divine

Each voice becomes voiceless, estranged, and unkind

With all stones turned

There lies not a soul

The truth is but squalor

Results are annulled

In a garden of daisies

Rest youthful and old

A graveyard of rubble

for silver and gold?

In the house I keep

In the house I keep each wall shall be

A coloring book for poetry

Where colors burst in harmony

Where war and peace succumb to paint.

In the house I keep each window sill

Shall only bear the daylight spill

Where succulents hang with free will

Where laughter’s never faint.

In the house I keep each lock will turn

With open ended thoughts to churn

Where no one line deserves to burn

Where honesty is quaint.

But when fear knocks in the house I keep

There will be no reason for which to weep

My hands dipped well within relief

Each wall we’ll finger paint.

In the house I keep my only wish

To deserve and serve this simple dish

Where forks and knives grow strong and rich

Where no wall goes untouched.

moving West

I flipped myself

like a coin

then flipped again

just to see

if heads or tails

would land twice

like a pollinating

honey bee

I figured if I had a

50/50 chance

I might as well

take a look see

and feel what lie on the

other side of dying

rather than spend another

long day trying

to convince myself

I’d be better off another house wife

crying

into coffee

or screaming into laundry

relying on the offerings

of innocent smiles

casting unintentional

shadows on my coffin

of denial

marred by my own

self loathing

which like a

preacher’s devotion

I took such pride

in approaching

solitude

like a potion

endlessly encroaching

on my own

well being

I admit I was broken

so I flipped that coin

heads

then I flipped myself

tails

and discovered

this notion

that

heads or tails I was going

Going

Gone

with the wind

not a rolling stone

or a tumbleweed

not a nickel or dime

not a honey bee

no I was a wreck

cast far out to sea

but that’s just the thing

it took all that to see

moving West wouldn’t be

all that easy for me

no nothing is lucky

nothing is free

except the glow of bonfire

in the dead of tree

where dancing shadows

take form and

I’m just

understandably me — hell

it’s already 1:03

and I’m hungry

but

I’ve got no food to eat —

so call it in the air

no

on second thought

I’ll just let this one be.

Rapid Eye Movement

You are an embarrassment

he said while picking my pockets

vacant I stared idle

in an undisclosed location

Danielle sat next to me

tenderly stroking the inside flesh

of my arm although

we’d only spoken a handful of times

back in grade school, he said again

Nobody likes you, you know

So I just agreed with him because

her fingers felt like grasshopper wings

fluttering through my mind, he

looked a deep sorrow longer

and that’s where he began to cry

I am sorry my friend, I said while he

cradled me like a new born lamb

only I was much bigger than him

so by the end of it it was I who was

more so doing the cradling, then

as he disappeared effortlessly

Danielle and I sat a long while

next to one another, her hair

long dark and full of whispers

while the room filled with necessary strangers

Holding hands for a while she said,

you aren’t that bad you know

he just really loves you is the point

and then too disappeared into a sea of snakes

which I could not swim

while the couch turned to an island

I sat sipping from my cup

the bitter dark liquid I had earlier poured.

heroine and Burroughs

Watch your soul.

I’d say tongue but I don’t harbor
the arrogance I once spewed.

Give me a break, like I dealt it
in cards, knowing you’d take the Ace.

I am only human, I have no other excuse.

I was scared of losing, most of all I was terrified that I could choose.

Does it feel good to see through me
like spotted glass, knowing your
windows are clean?

And why do I bother to even ask? It’s not you who hold the answer, I can see, it’s I who has stood
idle, waiting to turn the key.

So if you’re looking through the peephole, please don’t make a sound.

I can see your shadow quiver, mine quivers there too.

But I can’t turn that key with a lock full of gum.

Another way out then, ah, hum — there’s a pauper selling candy, eating pizza on 68th next to Sole — so I’m pretty sure we’ll meet again, like heroine and Burroughs.