The older I have gotten The more joyful I have become I am not very old now so I feel Very lucky1 Lucky1 that the word transcendent means something to me. Lucky1 that all those years of forced smiles finally have something behind them. Lucky1 that God found me. Lucky1 I did not run. Luck had nothing to do with it.↩↩↩↩↩
With My Kids
I long to go to old places Where fences are broken down Where people once were Yet they do not visit anymore I want to sit on the porch of a house Whose living room was long ago taken by a tree I want to swim in nostalgia that is not my own Then I want to take this peace This quiet away from the buzz of radio waves and wifi I want to take …
Always Boxed In
Rooms always boxed inPlaced strategically in locationReliably there always expectedWithout question even I knowWhat I will do Adventure used to creep inMy bones would resonate with adventureMy muscles mimic the wavesOf distant shoresI wanted to see I did what was requiredI met makers with honorsI married, had kids found treasureBut never moved till even todayAll I tune with anticipation I desire to delve into mysteryTo approach danger and hug itThe wanderer is trappedEven though the …
A Distant Train
A distant train vibrates the air.Even in my home.What power to touch an ear –drum so gentle from here. A tweet from Australia.Is read by me shirtless in Texas.What power to touch my eye.So gentle from here. These things like projectiles.Shot through air and wire.Surrounded by the fullness of space.Flowing around them all of it fluid. Except me, see this machine.We know and can explain.Yet besides it we ask the engineers.Are galaxies made and destroyed.
Beauty In The Slow Naked in the Silent
1000 years ago a man and his staff walk silently through the wilderness.500 years ago a lad and his bow transverse the plains.200 years ago a cowboy and his pistol gaze upon the mountains.50 years ago a soldier and his rifle walked though the jungles.Now I stand in a dark empty park with these words. What is this heavy yet invisible fog that finds me alone?A wilderness in between such modern construction.It is always the …
Next To The Purple Wood
To the liquor store we went.The lightest of blues and yellows mingled.in the sky casting its purple hue.The atmosphere mingling all fall colors.With that purple ethereal nostalgia, a road traveled often.I lost my purpose for the trip.Like a soldier forgetting the mission.Dad listened to music about pimps.I did to, it hung in my brain.Next to the image of the purple wood.
Life Does Not Ask
We all exist at some expenseA mothers pain or a fathers heftWithout a question being asked of ourselvesOf weather existence is what we desiredNoLife does not ask and neither does GodYou are woven and crafted a divine poem in sinewBlood pumps through the veins of an earthen shellWhile a light no fleshy eyes see burns brighterThan a campfire laced with magnesiumIt is hard knowingIts hard rowinga life livedpurposeknown
Thank you for this failure.It was a ride.I will let my shame fade away with the rising tide. Thank you for this wound.It was a trauma.I will let this scar be a boon a poem on my flesh a happy mantra. Thank you for this insult.It was quite sharp.I will let these words be pulled tight like strings to my harp. Thank you for these shortcomings.They are magnificent.I will let them glow bright with the …