From My Brain to Yours

if something’s in the air and then it rushes towards the earth, it’s gravity that pulls it but the impact is a birth   a thud is the beginning of when pre-thud times are past, and before it fell we didn’t know that time would be the last in the moment, we were thinking of our grocery lists and chores; finding time to wash the dishes, take the trash out, mop the floors but when came the thud it startled us and changed our point of view — we realized very suddenly that pre-thud days are through  and now we will continue through this newly altered age, we’ll explore our new reality when forced to turn the page  we will push through the beginning; we may never see an end until the time itself is shriveled. in the meantime, be my friend

 when simple simplicity lacks specificity complex rigidity fails to contain it if i spit in a cup then the cup’s full of stuff which eventually should be poured out and drain-ed i was born as an animal, weaned off of flammable milk from the breast of a fiery dragon though the dragon’s invincible, strictly on principle, i’m still convinced i might fall off the wagon  i know i’ll still grow if i will it to happen; i think hard enough to do lots in a day, but sat in the seat of this life i’m not strapped in — now might be the time to be learning to pray

i think i’d like to spend a night back then years and years ago, when there were stars in the sky  when we could look up where we were and see the heavens, before we blinded ourselves with our own light  to spend a day when things were slower, with not so much to separate me from a forest squirrel  climbing trees and looking upwards, feeling dirt between my toes  when an idea was as big as the ocean, full of life, wonder, and color  i could have just one and never see it fade instead of spitting them out like chewed up bits of gum from a blister pack i took the last one out of and threw away  i’d like to breathe in the air of walking for miles and reaching nothing, journeys taking days and weeks to see the world change around me, but not too much too fast everything is spinning and it won’t stop… i’ve been caught up in the twister all my life  if i can look into a mirror for long enough i pause, but i have pills to take and buses to catch and oh so man...

when you are small, the world is big in life’s great forest, you’re a twig as you may snap if you’re not careful, careful you must be  if you are blessed to grow a bud, and by god’s grace it blooms you’ll join the ranks of those whose thanks come mostly from perfumes  a silent word, a quiet thought, a third peculiar thing they come together in a pot till steam begins to sing when you are singing, you can fly above the tufts of trees  but on your landing, take good care — you mustn’t skin your knees when you are big, the world is small you cannot feel a thing at all you’re numb to little pricks and blisters, nonchalant and calm and when you see a little twig, it’s strewn across your path  it’s fallen to the ground, you see: well, you can do the math  i’m in a place where thoughts abound, and dreams are clear as day yet if i think too hard it seems i’ve got nothing to say if i were big i’d burn too bright, and i don’t like goodbyes it’s clear to me i’d rather be o...

surrounded by dreamers when one is a cynic’s “today’s meant to be” versus “well, life’s no picnic” enjoying a life while the life’s not romantic won’t mesh well with dreamers with stars in their eyes with feet planted firmly, you know who you are  but a dreamer’s convinced they may well be a star and a star they may be, but that’s so not your style so you smile and nod as they strive for some prize for dreamers, a life is as big as the ocean one drop in the water will stain the whole sea a cynic will scoff at illogical notions for cynics, a life has a limit of Me surrounded by dreamers when one is a cynic’s a school kickball player whose friends go olympic or seeing the world through the eyes of a finicky farmer who’s scoffing as pigs try to fly to stand and observe endless truths being twisted  is frustrating, true, but recall you must be understanding of things you had thought had existed  while climbing the branches of life’s twisted tree

if i were a troll under a bridge it would be a rope bridge and i would hang by a harness fifteen feet below, dangling over a ravine i would know when people walked over my bridge because the bridge would wobble and i would swing and if i happened to be in a particularly bad mood i would climb up my ropes (there would be big knots for footholds) and face the travelers if you dared to cross my bridge while i was crying you would surely be in for it a shower of my tears would accost you, obscuring Your vision the spray of salty water from my eyes would catch the wind and swirl all around, shaking the bridge violently and you would wonder why, but i would never tell you i could watch you fall down into the ravine, never having touched you with my hands you would descend through the air in slow motion, falling farther and farther away from me until you became a speck in my vision and once i could not see you anymore, i, too, would jump down off the swinging rope bridge, speeding through the...