Life shall bless and repeat again,
Love shall pass along.
And with our praise
Little ones shall grow
As poplars bloom in spring.
Like the sun at twilight’s hour
Little ones must lay down to sleep,
Rest their heads and sleep a while
To let wings ruffle down;
Night shall wrestle in.
When I awake in my mother’s freezing basement,
I don’t jump awake like a bloody early morning quack.
I wish to the good god that swept me to sleep
That she’d count all my stars one more time
And whisper sweet nothings into the back of my mind.
To be honest, the sweet nothings are always floating there.
They never leave and rightly so;
Space head filled with clouds.
No, the sweet nothings are what keep me stifled
And snuggled and re-counting my re-counting
Until the moment I absolutely must arise.
You know, that moment that passed a few re-counts ago.
Eyes closed.
This inactive user,
Scheduled for sleep.
Retired.
Lost in thought
At the local park bench.
Idle green light.
Low power mode.
Maybe we balanced our cross-hairs when we sent our whispers into night’s air.
A long, hollow howl,
A song to our own dainty ears,
Wishing for night to tarry while bringing us sleep
Footsteps reaching horizons edge, so evenly spaced so late in the day.
How did we manage,
How many words were pure thoughts,
Lingering ’bout our hesitant breaths like foxglove in the summer.
My moon silhouetted your name-sake tree, standing afar tall and proud.
Bloodline crawls down stony steps to waters edge,
Breaking off into still, deep black abyss
Waiting to find another whisper.
I was waiting there, by Heavens Door
Knowing who I was waiting for
But not knowing where to wait
Casually making small talk
With a sleep deprived hobo
Who wondered about text books
And grown up newscasters.
I asked him the directions,
To which he told me about lingerie.
I wondered if he saw the glint in my eyes
From magical memories he had conjured
Deep within my minds eye.
He tried to sell me his pre-blossomed plants
I told him I’d get him on my way back
How do you commit to someone
To accept one entirely?
For it isn’t just a walk about
Strolling arm in arm…
Nor is it even a moment laughing
To which the poke’s about.
When I sleep, I do not know
What the murmuring’s about.
And walking gaily, all alone
I shouldn’t dare to stop.
Nor when I sleep in my lone bed
Best guess I’m zig-zag hogging
Is it just when my brow’s a furrowed
That I must dig down deep…
Or when I’m afar, a lonesome distance
Away from my fair damosel?
For strong I am, a soldier here
A valiant man of fortune
And when I catch a glimpse of that
Which doesn’t mesh with thyself,
Is it my duty to embrace distaste?
Or fare me well, when I am proud
To turn my head and trod
Into horizon, into the end, farewell! Be off! Be gone!
No. It isn’t that.
This is not the way.
This is not my heart’s desire.
For my own brow,
And your worn brow,
Are forever joined to cherish.
So I do now know what comes of me,
What begs me to be done.
It’s simply a hand of mine, outstretched and outlaid
Accepting another’s sun, vast, wild, and aglow
In peace, enjoyment.. conquest ho!
We run together, apart.
Free to be a memory,
Or a child in incubation.
Free to hide, and free to glow,
And free to bring the world to me.
Free to hold and free to love,
And free to be with me!
When snow falls hearts gather around the hearth,
Grabbing softly at the cackling pine
Delicately stashed inside the burning pit.
Mesmerized by the dance within, and out.
Here, lights take on a softer glow.
Cold outside carries an earthy fragrance
That tucks itself neatly into corners
Of windows that slowly freeze
Then, from mind we slowly remember
Budding spring uncurling it’s frozen fingers
As green sprouts celebrate daylight sun.
Softness takes long strides out into fresh air.
From this perch, stretched along the couch
Wool blanket helping hold fires heat within,
Tranquil spreads easily inside
These heavy walls flickering me to sleep.
I was at the market
Surfing along well worn booths
Passing by idle buskers
Thumbing old good luck charms
Worn away
Here I smelled service
The toils of seven generations
Sweating in the fields
Sending wives to sell
Gnarled stone washed fingers
It is romantic
Startling romance amongst
Brutal ages
Suffering humbly
Expressive humility
And at night
Late at night when
Stray dogs find moving shadows
I wonder who
Sleeps more peaceful
Things I’ve left behind
Oh, things I’ve left aside
I’ve walked along the road
And down, down, down the ol’ block
Hands hidden deep
Beneath layers upon layers
Oh why did I sleep
Why did I take that lonely step
These times as they’ve left behind
Oh things I’ve left behind
Drag on the changes of my mind
Where does it go
Tell me, where does it all go
When I’m occupied
Searching for changes, aside
Oh, the things I’ve left behind
Why did I stop, time on my mind
Stumbling down this block
To you we just quiver
But to us we are champions
We have the ultimate
In safety and defense
Imagine, a ball of spikes
Impregnable
Undesirable
Very non-tasty
But our noses we each
Have such pinkness delight
And toes with our claws
Soft bellies underneath
And in our deep sleep
We curl into a ball
Relaxing our quills
Exposing a petite nose
We are a peaceful bunch
Sleeping all day
We rummage around
Without much of a noise
And if we are lucky
If our owners feel
To let us roam free
We roam wild and happy!
