Can Love (day 1611)

I don’t think I can love any other way
Then a heavy anchor tugging
Like window screen wipers
On at a very fast speed.
My storm is perfect and irregular
As its onslaught takes no prisoners
And leaves memories about my skin
Like thin veins navigating through
Lifelines of a thousand year old tree.
Some days I grasp like fallen soldiers
Stranded in limbo, crying out
The name signed with lipstick
Resting on a breast pocket postcard.
On other days, I recline in bliss
As a cackling fire warms my toes
And a pair of storyline mukluks
Bring me warm tea,
Reminding me of good choices I made.
I carry my tokens with me; inside.
I believe there should be no other way.
I believe that love supersedes
The cravings and doesn’t rely on
Place holders that distract real meaning
And distort intentions
In some silly ploy for attention
And a pitiful future
I will not dare seek to define.
I believe in redefinition absolutely,
But redefinition is never easy to agree with,
For the unsettling Demons, nay,
The unsettling Angels of my instinct
Carry with them a fire
That burns so dark in my soul
That I cry when they meet for tribunal.
I don’t think I can love any other way,
And no holiday nor any reward
Has ever shown me otherwise.

Proper Soldier (day 1514)

My warrior became a proper soldier,
Fell in line and obeyed command.
It was a salty tongue to bite,
It had its perks, it still had fight. 
And when the road was muddy with
A thousand footsteps come before,
It was a comrade there to say:
We’re here with you all the way, mate. 

Howl Right Back (day 1277)

If it wasn’t for all the time I spend
Laying in bed wild and free,
I’d have surely lost all my passion
To be here now with you.
For when the moon howls at me
And tells me strongly to:
“Avoid the day, avoid the stone,
Set your spirit free.”
I’m often inclined to howl right back
Singing my favorite song.
But my heart! How it rides!
How it holds my hands and squeezes!
I’m in too far, I’m comfortable,
And my coffee gets delivered to me.

How can I go on wondering,
How does time elude my plan,
Did I walk off with silly games
I’d never make it home to play?

A memory that comes to me
Usually sets me free.
Like Hindenburg, Heidelberg,
Like Huxley, Hoyt, and Hank.
Like one thousand soldiers
Returning home
After two years of endless war.
Like comfort that you give me
As I lay side by side with you,
I reach into my back pocket
And expose my satisfaction,
I’m home.

Brownstone Raindrops (day 1196)

Memories found in the smell of your skin;
I’m the glass biting straw.
I’d be inward as you shone on pretty;
A spin and a twirl just as high as I remember.

Wondering as I do, as I move close to see.
Like your arms always tingle in the end:
I’ve found the way to get through the day,
And light crawls through the room.

Breath upon my neck is a happiness I’ve been warned,
Just a slip away is all I’m left to pray.
For today the brownstone soldiers lapping my wake
Share the dominant raindrops I’ve just escaped.

Cowboy’s Pasture (day 1163)

Pastures I walk on
Where my window-less remains.
Crickets and butterflies,
Like this dusty ramblin-rose.

I am not a soldier,
Bandaged up and bruised,
I am a the lone cowboy
Pictured and framed.

It escapes the wild warriors
With my heart: dear, forever.
Like a copper pan at the tin store,
Stars in my campfire.

Cyclical moon which bringeth thy sun:
Boil over warm coffee.
Because I love this way,
Where my window-less remains.

Into My Ear (day 1142)

A little sick soldier floated into my ear today.
He loudly exclaimed he was here to stay.
Over tea we discussed merry things,
Like rooibos tea, poppies,
And the smell of honey on a pretty girls lonely lips.
We both cringed.
We both sighed and laughed
With wicket intensity
That held my soul
Into unconditional surrender.
For after all, I survived these
Battle scars and sleepless memories.

Harmonizing (day 1027)

For all that I could remember, for all I could ever remember, for all the times that I dusted off my aching knees to build up my power of love that thrust my gold into the clear blue skies; it was all I was, all I cared to be, all I had dreamed of being, all that was allowed to rest – to be the remnants of some hard played game digging into worn parts of my gloves.

For without these delightful glories (curdling my cream and harmonizing my deep south Presbyterian choir) I was merely a soldier. A hard edged, fine tuned, stainless steel blade of America’s finest earth (plus of course the blood, sweat, and rock hard fists heft my direction). Hardly left a consequence upon my check-marked debriefing.

Here I stood in future’s year, inhaling deep to remember what it felt like laying on the freshly mowed grass in the heat of summer, slow moving cars rolling along manicured gravel. An itch, creeping in and lingering a while as momma’s freshly squeezed – and heavily iced – lemonade tinkled around inside a transparent and sweating summer repair.

But now I wasn’t heading here or there. I wasn’t coming or going. I wasn’t even known amongst the squirrels and bluejays and Chester, the neighbor’s dog, had wilting flowers.

You cannot crush what once lived inside a boy. A man can not fall flat and lie upon his back and let these thoughts turn and turn and turn without the understanding of what has come to pass. Much like Tchaikovsky’s flurrying madness, torrent thoughts arrest my secret moments until the uneven dice with blank looking stares roll the number five five times in a row. To end a second chapter but never ending. Never an end. Never to be ended.

Without knowing then, I was knocking at a door I had left without looking back. A door that still had a mesh pane to keep out the flies. A door that creaked and banged shut no matter how slow it was released. A door that acted as the liaison between country folk and their well meaning manner. A door that punctuated my knocking and brought old – as in aging – footsteps squinted hard to recognize the stranger the stood just on the other side.

My Brow, Your Brow (day 953)

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!

A Free Soldier (day 654)

A lost soldier makes his way home
Elsewhere, grenades go off in combat
Where trenches are dug deep into earth
Casually the soldier wanders home
Through orchards full of fresh fruit
Through rolling country hills
And friendly strangers minding
Their own important business
Along double track dirt roads
Fields of flowers for napping carelessly
And picking, one hangs loose about his shirt pocket
Heavy combat coat flung freely about his shoulder
Fresh cut grass sends over the valley
A smell so potent and refreshing
Even the young birds come stay for a visit
Enjoying the new horizons created
By the arching suns daily pattern
Carrying it’s essence onward
Into the mind of the young soldier
Making his way home away from battle
In peace so strong a hand from nowhere reaches out
And assures him that all will be right
And walks him onward, into the light

Victorious (day 619)

In all conditions
And the word was met
Out from the distance
Sprung one, and his net
And all through the forest
Then through the seas
Onward to habitats
And into the streets
From that day forth
Set out to the edge
Was the lot and their goals

He was a master
A master at a craft
One that spewed madness
And another out of stress
One that strews happiness
One with regret
For then one became
In his shelter of back trash
A champion of his craft
Living in amongst
The nature he was of
He walked on his coats
His suit heaven felt
His boat in the moor
To which he escaped
After the deed had been done;
Tracked and then captured
Tamed and then toweled
Dried like a mint
For tea was the score
Figure me this

Let me be your sprigot
You insectide of madness
You inhibitor of fleas
What then
Lost in a net of spiritual madness
Taken from all beings

Then figure me that

Standing proud
Was our gallant soldier
Basking in his glory
Basking in his gorgeousness
Waving his flag bloody proud
And smiling
Victorious