Child parade ...

   Who was she,

     On the balcony?
Watching the same little kids that I

        Was (eating my apple

While she stretched {I assume} her calves

               One floor down from the sky:

                 She stayed a little longer

                     Than I thought she would...

                          And I let my apple go a little brown,

                              and slowly ate it more away

                     than I would have done some other day,

                                  Not waiting for her eyes to wander down).

Foothole ...

                               Dear, I don't mind if                                     the world takes me up

                   Piece by piece & chip by chip                                  of skin –

                  Bloody hollow patch, then scab,                             then scar:

                               I don't mind falling in;                           I enjoy falling in,

             Feeling strong – I admit it – when                      the world takes me up,

          When the body closes tight (to be                        ship-shape again):

                         First it stings, then it aches,                       then it itches a bit.

                      And then it's new – bright                    and smooth – nearly ten.

                                 I know deep down that            these holes never grow

All the way back up the scale – maybe to            nine (point-five).

         And I have to scrub them clean, so           they don't turn

           Red & angry. But – dirty me – don't          I feel alive

                           And full of purpose when I'm       healing?

            It's not like after a sleepless night or a      cold

           Gray morning where I'm tired from      my sins

   (My gluttony, my sloth). When I have     holes

                To fill – well, of course         it was stupid

                                   To go running      blind and barefoot in the dark,

                 But –  I'm learning, patch by    patch: I rip off the

                  Skin, leave it by the branch.  And I walk  on the mark.

Base jump ...

                                             Leave it all far, far behind:

                                         Let the wind make deaf

                                And your tears make blind

                  How much sky around you twists:

                          How much freedom and

       How little time (there) exists

To decide where you are going –

      How long you will play

             Before your body starts slowing,

                                Parabolically slipping toward

                                             A pause (with a sheet full

                                     Of empty drag – slowing, slower).

                                               And how will you fall? alone,
                                                          A solo, free and small

                                                    (a whistling, driven stone)?

                                      Will you take someone’s hand and

                                                     Whorl a quiet, tumbling

                                               Grace? Or will you stand

                           On an edge, shivering with intent

                                  While the air goes dark

           And your chute splays out, spent

 By girls in a tent who'd been needing

         A blanket? “Maybe tomorrow,"

                       Your head lies, pleading,

              And the irony makes you queasy:

                         Stopping would be so hard, but
                                             Not starting is so, so easy.

Ignorance ...

In a field, nobody is ignoring you

                      Because nobody knows you're there.

In the ocean, you sort of pray

                                  Nobody knows you're there, because

                              The sharks could make you less

              There if they chose not to ignore you.

Online, everyone is ignoring you

Because you're obviously there, and

          Besides, they have better things

To worry about, like how not to be

ignored.

Underside ...

We fall into

the next wave. No

matter how many times

we come  out of   the blue

laughing,“What  a legless,

aimless jelly     I was,”

it does nothing to

keep us   from

going under

again. We

can tell

a new

day,

   “I

 can

lift my

   body

weight, I

balanced on

one leg       in a

subway car, I have

thick bones and clean

thoughts, I can   read

people        by their

shoulder curves,

their  voices.

I     have

steady

eyes

  and

I    can

walk just

as   straight.”

But what does

truth matter    in a

Wave?      Where we

are blind         and   weak,

shivering      and        upended,

wearing pointless feet and inept lungs,

looking   as sad   as kelp     to the dolphins.

Here comes a dip again.     We   will        feel

grounded.    (but       we won't say it too too

loud:   the last wave   still knows, and the

next one is   always ready  to learn

How wrong          we are.

Long distance relationships ...

(for the veterans)

War

   Is foreign to me.

      Not something I want to do –

         Or hear or smell or see.

            And

               I think that's true

                  For most young-hearted women

                     And men inside it, too:

                        They

                           Walk into the cloud,

                              Silent as church mass heads

                                 All conformedly bowed

                                    There

                                       To give a little

                                          Speck to the air; a bead

                                             To fell something brittle,

                                                Some

                                                   Distant devil who

                                                      Makes friends fall & has to be

                                                         Stopped (that much is true).

On the day ...

http://youtu.be/4_aFhf3tnbc

On the day that I was born

                  A million people said,

“I'm going to work and my boss is a big jerk.

                        My credit's in the red.”

                                  On the day that I was born

                                        A thousand lawyers moved,

                                “My client's as clear as the wintery air,

          Though the evidence strains to prove.”

                                               On the day that I was born

                                                                 A hundred fishermen

                     Said, “If I want the fish here when I come back next year,

                                            I've got to leave these ones in.”

                                            On the day that I was born

                                                                       Ten nurses in the wing

                                  Said, “The world may jade you, but not today, babe: you're

                                           Quite a lovely thing.”

                                                                                   On the day that I was born,

                                             With my first breath I cried,

                                         “I'm cold, someone spanked me, I'm in need of a hanky,

                                                                                                    But, my God! I'm alive.”

Core ...

I.

I  am  too-long  whole.
Break  this  flesh  so  I  can  heal;  make

A  wound  I  can  wrap  wet  around  your  claws.

Take my hand like an apple

Full of bones & juice, fiber

& nectar, choker seeds

& medicine skin.

I am not perfect: I

Am purely me –

Meant to dissolve.

Is it too much? to want

Your mouth making me into

A  grinding  flow of  finally,  finally,  finallys;

To wonder if your tongue drowns

When it thinks of me

Lower case ...

too many words north

of animal

to fall into silence now:

to stalk, to

jump, to dig to blood &

howl; to

sniff, to start, to laugh

at twigs;

to touch myself, eyes at

your heart,

to touch you next, thick

in such wealth;

to fall, to sleep too close,

to stick.

Too many words that stall

at 'almost.'

Eat me ...

                               Vegetarians hate on soul-

                                    ingesting way too much.

                                       They say they do it

                                           Out of love – so

                                                out of touch:

                                                    how can they be good lovers

                                                     when they won't taste sweat,

                                                    won't chew on skin,

                                                 won't let us die

                                              for them?

                                     In a world where spiders and

                                flies share space, mantises

                           eat their mates, and

                     worms rend flesh

                for the grapes,

      all I can do

   is cry for

them.