Writing, Ideas, & Stories
You are the mystery beyond the hill.
Drapped in shadows and silence you walked alone. I never
heard you coming up the stairs. You never returned my calls.
Footsteps never smelled so sweet to the waiting whiff of cloudy anticipation in open arms. You walked
alone so I wouldn’t know the path, so I wouldn’t follow your trail, so we would grow on different sides of this hill;
where I’ll be waiting.
The one we needed and we never
acknowledge it until it’s too late. Freedom
gives birth to bliss on a summer
afternoon cliff for the people to watch
in a small box with our feet on a coffee
table. You weren’t the first and
we will remember your crusade
by singing that fine jingle on last time:
Nananananananana nananananananana
RIP~
We watched a young boy build a sandcastle. Trenches
wide and deep to keep the uninformed out. Towers high as his shoulder to stop the catapult attacks
to his heart. I can see his face filling this trench. The final
touch, a flag, of all colors at the highest point. We walked over with a piece of bark
for a drawbridge and said, “can’t keep them out forever.”
We met once,
under the same roof
same game
singing the same chants.
Encore over night
constellation built around
your Voiced dreams.
I can hear you,
you sang you were invisible
but I saw you-
I wasn’t the only one.
Tears fall on this day
the last day your soothing
dream lifted our ears-
my ears
over the years.
We met once,
under the same roof
same game
and I’ll never forget.
RIP~
He battled across the shallow meadow and
flying steel kissed his ear. The shriek
sang the sweet song through wind pipes and muddy forearms.
His mother came down and dangled
her index on his cheek.
Life evacuated her son on the muddy earth
a kiss
and he was gone.
I’ve seen the other side and
I don’t want to go.
Lower the sails
march home
love while you can.
One way entrance sign
no one leaves on
two legs. We take
for granted the light
we entered with
and pray for relief
before suffocating
on the dark.
You sang it best on that peach
Summer afternoon to the breeze
blowing your words across the beach.
Don’t stop, don’t freeze-
be here tonight don’t overreach.
Lay at ease
and listen to her preach
watch her reprise
this freedom of speech.
Saint's Muse 