rain pounded relentlessly
throughout the cities
canceling out the most
extraordinary rhythm and blues
racing past sullen streets
and endless alleyways
april two thousand sixteen
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aliens loved to return here
to feast on information
but mainly to experience
poetic life in the fast lane
april two thousand sixteen
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cicadas alive and loud
sounding off above and below
sunny treetops
sublimely casting wavelengths
across the heavy air
noisily rhythmical to anyone
subconsciously dreaming of
reaching faraway places
august two thousand fifteen
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flip style
box top
magically opens
revealing sixty-four crayolas
fingers and voices counting and
calling each by name
eyes sparkling
cheeks blushing
lips smiling
the youngest and oldest of minds
opening up to new ideas
born on white sheets of paper
may two thousand fifteen
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where wildflowers bloom warm winds blow
turning rolling fields into motion pictures
on the brightest and fairest of days
round stones sink into dampened soil
concealed by grasses and barely breathing
undiscoverable come summer or fall
footprints aplenty but none of them human
the unreachable never dies
whether here or furthest place imaginable
may two thousand fifteen
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the pump in the field rusted red
miraculously sprung back to life
year after year
children jumping over stalks
and stars
barely out of breath
and smiling
seemingly suspended in motion
dashing through the water
may two thousand fifteen
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I thought for sure the anteaters would
beat the cardinals as the game unfolded
but the more intelligent species prevailed
leaving the extant mammal departing
tail between legs and muttering
beneath exhaustive breaths
promising to return same time next year
march two thousand fifteen
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little bird bides his time
inside woolen hoodie
left out on the line
for the wind to iron out
by whipping into shape
when the rains arrive
little bird holds on
swaying and cursing
like a long lost sailor
alone at sea
march two thousand fifteen
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you’ll find it in the middle of somewhere
surrounded by a fog in a field of woods
discoverable through a natural maze
filled with a variety of wildflowers
walking through the door you swear
you became someone other than yourself
and the moment you sit and open your mind
the shack is filled with a beautiful light
march two thousand fifteen
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from what I remember a tire swung
from the rafters from inside the barn
the motion putting me to sleep
safely wrapped and held in arms
I loved but would not know
the difference between reality
and dreams remain indistinguishable
from the night or morning lights
arms swinging from the canopy
rocking me endlessly to sleep
february two thousand fifteen
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colder than I could have ever imagined
here I am walking among the gentoo
as if exploring another planet
I came here to die but decided
there was too much to live for
as long as I couldn’t get out of this place
january two thousand fifteen
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he took the microphone
and introduced himself
men without souls below him
fists raising and voices cheering
redefining their short-lived lives
chanting ingrained mantras
he convinced them they are
more than mere machines
destined to find praise and glory
long after the killing is done
january two thousand fifteen
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poetry is a story
a picture
a locomotive out of control
a spaceship exiting inner space
connecting with anything
that may or may not rhyme
december two thousand fourteen
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apparent victors come and go
just like their opposites who crawl
and walk and run behind the scenes
climbing mystical mountains and
sailing impossible dreams
asked to start fires
put out fires and
catapult fireworks into the night
fallout from the blasts twinkling
like a dying star
consumed by the unseen
november two thousand fourteen
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when pretending to sleep in the crib
many friends of the family
came and went
commenting about this and that
my conscience told me this is exactly
how it will be in the end
bored from all the attention
I fell asleep and
dreamed of becoming the man
who lived to touch the sky
july two thousand fourteen
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those freckled spots mysteriously
appearing overnight on my arms
remind me
how very much alive I am
my markings like rings on a tree
perhaps one day
exposed for all to see
june two thousand fourteen
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all rights reserved
jdubqca 