Tomorrow, Butterfly

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On frail wings
Spectacles of memories
Perhaps well suited for the pin
To mount up in some gallery
Go sailing far beyond my reach
But I should never wish it so
That beauty on this grander scale
Be found confined
By greedy man
Or turn of hand
As time, life, and love demand

Tomorrow then, my butterfly
If winded currents sweep you so
I will not keep you
No, not for trophies
Not for thirst to see your colors
Freedom owes itself to us
Your gilded wings deserve release
The slightest touch
Might hurt so much
For something there so precious made
So, to the breeze, I send you off

Tomorrow then, my butterfly
Today may be a time unkind
The sunset speaks
Upon your fragile form so sweet
Fluttering beyond my reach
But I can be
Content to know I held you close
And met you on this journey we
Were christened for
Before today was ever dreamed
Farewell, I hope you keep your wings

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Clouds I Packed

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Fragments of the bridges we burned
In the charred grey haze
In the soft blue grass
My hand on your future
Your palm on my past

Little scraps of clouds I packed
In the zippers and pockets
Of the walls we moved
And the paint we peeled
For the dreams we drew
Under stark white dots
Oh, the skies we knew
Were

Bigger than the snowfall over those mountains
And bigger than the love all over these hills
Our sky was on fire
Our hearts were our needles
Our eyes were a compass
Our bodies unbound

Bigger than the words repainted from ancients
And bigger than door frames over this house
Our sky is on fire
Our blankets untorn
Our love is like water
Our bodies still warm

(sorry for the delay. I’ve been relocating and adjusting. Thank you for your patience)

The River And I

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The river and I go side by side
It runs, though I, content to walk
Am in no rush, though tossed about
And ever turbulent, no doubt
But less intentional in stride

The river and I, we both do long
To find the sea–the open deep
I feel my path will longer be
For I am less at liberty
To chase the places I belong

The river and I have much to share
The downward path we both pursue
I feel I fall but never rise
And dashed upon these rapids white
The fate I find is rarely fair

The river has more voice than I
It has no fear to speak its mind
It gladly tears the earth apart
While on its path with steady heart
It makes no stops and forms no ties

The river has more force than I
To cut away at standing stone
Its lonely goal by soul inspired
It runs always and never tires
With naught a thought to quit or die

The river knows not how it moves
Nor does it out of malice roll
It merely seeks its distant love
Relentlessly at every ebb
And presses in, around, and through

The river and I, we both know well
The destination of our call
We know which way we need to go
Though how to turn we may not know
And what may come we cannot tell

The river and I, though without words
Walk side by side along the bank
I long to run as does this friend
But how I fall and how I bend
Has broken me in shattered thirds

The river and I have parted ways
It perseveres while I digress
Returning to my former lot
A life, a day, a time forgot
With sentences I long to say

The river and I will both go far
Adapting to our circumstance
Perhaps, since I am not allowed
The river will reach you somehow
In freedom on some distant shore

Painted Vessel of Passage

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Skin, oh the falsities stretched over flesh
As a smile, or a laugh, or a wish
Twisted in foreign hieroglyphics
Subtle nuances of portrayal
With which we deftly parry
The thrust of probing questions
Or misguided salutations
But skin is not what I am
And this boxcar bears no resemblance to the passenger within
Merely a painted vessel of passage
Oft’ the canvas of a graffiti made to fade
A forest, blocked by trees
Or, perhaps, a tale that no one would believe
That is us
That is me
Beneath

Sometimes You Can See…

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It isn’t all that often, but sometimes
You can see love
In tiny pinholes
Bleeding through a ebon sky in variable densities
Light
Ignited
Ancient
Caravanning the distance in waves
Predating the cracks in our fragile hearts
Washing upon celestial shores in swaths we call constellations
But we never really knew them
These eyes in the heaven are to faces unblinking
A glance by chance or divine
Falling across time
Onto a serendipitous second in which elements align
Providing oxygen to my tired mind down here
It isn’t very often, but sometimes
You can see God
Burnt through in the autumn hues of dying dreams
Shaken and piled up for sweeping
Where today’s decomposition becomes tomorrow’s fuel
To wake life where death stirs
Like children coming forth from sleep
It isn’t often, but sometimes
I think that centuries may just be unwitting catalysts
Love, launched long before the orbits breathed a full rotation
Locked in motion
Ancient beyond recognition
Struck here tonight because it was the only place it could go
And we are nothing new
Me and you
Just tiny allegories of immortality
Caught tightly
Spun lightly
And bundled up in woven threads of something
We did not create
Embodiments of unity even the stars do not comprehend
While bending arms of light to touch us
These broken compositions
These stolen notes
We have written in stone over the face of what we know
Are our epitaph
That
We love
And it comes with no permissions
Branded deep within a sky that casts no shadow, but is its own reason why
And so am I
So I decide
That if the sky makes no apology for light
Despite the blind eyes we bear
And if the stars believe the distance here is worth the weight of infinity
And if the pain of decomposing becomes the beauty of tomorrow’s bloom
Then I love you
And it must have been true
Before they wrote the first line of the first word
Or spoke of things like this
It isn’t often, but sometimes
The world moves
For small things
And life springs
From cracked dreams
Under the ancient eyes
In this ebon sky
Where, it isn’t often, but sometimes
You can see love

5 After Midnight

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The pixie dust
Long since swept up
Has left only a fading glow
Upon the harsh wooden floor
And I am here
Dangling between wand
And life
How long will I
Be caught between
Being the coachman and the dog
How long will I
Be snagged in thinking
The taste of these enchantments
Is bitter in the end
A hollow sound
Of fairy games
And riven souls

Not A Traffic Light

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Traffic lights have such an easy job
Blinking life away, oblivious
To shattered glass and acts of tragedy
Or signs of cardboard begging charity
Who am I to stand aghast at life
Twisted metal spilling in the streets
And ask the reasons why it all should be
When I could wait in quiet apathy
But I am not a blinking traffic light
I am not a lifeless entity
Conscious to the wreckage we create
I am not content to sit and wait
We have felt the force of passing forms
Ripping through the course of our intent
I can taste the spillage of our hearts
I inhale the putrid bitter scent
Burnt and broken heaps that once were love
Scattered on the landscape of desire
Empty vessels gutted in the dark
Hope that we abandoned to the fire
Sometimes I would like to be machine
Incapable of tears for what I know
But I am not a traffic light that blinks
I cannot tell when to stop or go