The Spaceman

The spaceman
sitting on the swing
that’s hanging from the moon,
is looking down on us
from the sky.

He’s falling deeply in love with
the city lights.
He’s tired of the stars.

On Earth,
there’s a lot to be explored.
Not all answers lie above.
Why are oceans so greatly ignored?
How come some people see colors in chords?
Why do we kiss when we’re in love?
Who made music and why do we dance,
smile, and cry
to a
sound?

Ain’t it strange
not to know?

Spaceman knows everything
there is to know of the galaxy,
but not enough of the place he calls home.

He packed very lightly for space.

Funny
how little you need for a place
that’s so big
with so much to discover,
with no end in sight,
Where every day’s night.
It’s a wonder.

A wonderful thing…

But no Spring,
no winter,
no summer,
no fall.

Snorkeling
is the thing
he misses
most of all.

Everything.

From the sun on his skin, sand in toes.
aching feet
from dancing circles
around Mary Jo.

Candy floss
and green lights,
sparks and
late night calls.
Morning breakfast,
milk and butter
jam and toast.

Spaceman sees all…
from northernmost
to southernmost.

There’s a lot to come home to.
There is so much to love.

Quiet Ones

Quiet souls observe the sounds that ears do not allow.
They often know what’s being said
Behind all things said out loud…
By listening to the corners of a smile,
And to the style of words,
Through speech and diction –
Decipher lies and catch
glimpses of the truth.

By listening to the empty lines between remarks –
smell sparks of anger, the scent of kindness,
Or the well-known
whiff
of a lame excuse.

The quiver of a bottom lip,
The index finger pointing straight,
The gaze cast down at itchy feet,
The hug that warms the soul…
Quiet souls
will catch the hurt,
will catch the blues,
Will feel the love,
the hues
of sunshine in the best of news…
And blackness in the worst.

Sense the distance,
closeness,
Take the hint
without assuming,
Guess correctly
secrets hidden far from view –
and leave them be.

What words cannot express,
we paint with just a subtle sigh.
What words cannot express,
we paint with twitches of our eyes.
What words cannot express
our bodies always find
another way to speak them.

They pour out of our skins,
and quiet ones will
always
listen.

Old Faith

I was born asleep
into the land of sheep,
Where God was King and
E V E R Y T H I N G
was in His Holy keep.

I was told of his forgiveness,
yet reminded I was vicious;
Born with sin, and next of kin
to the wrongs of the malicious.

That I had upon my hands,
the blood of Christ – the man
who died for us two thousand years ago or so…

I know.

It makes no freaking sense.
I wasn’t there back then.
Neither part of,
nor among the crowd of angry men.

The guilt we practiced
left no room for building gratitude.
I couldn’t love a God
who bore a grudge against the shrewd
For daring to ask questions
in the face of the unknown.

“I am who I am”, he said –
and who is that?

Don’t know.

God is love,
and love is patient,
love is kind –
it does not envy.

Yet “Thou shall have no gods before me, for I’m a jealous God”?

“Trust not in yourself,” they said.
“Leave it to the Lord.”
I lived half my life
with both my eyes turned heavenward.

Looking for signs,
waiting to shine,
desperate for permission
From an entity who never spoke,
but was told I wasn’t listening.

I couldn’t wrap my mind
around the things that I was taught.

And so I left the praying
to the ones who understood.

To a city

City living drives me wild.
I love the lambent neon lights,
the wide-awake in dead of night,
the sound of parties, the sound of fights…

The distant crooning of a saxophone,
the sound of traffic,
buzz and tone of
bright and graphic signs
advising me to
buy, buy, buy!

The open after hours,
gleaming heights of
mighty towers looking down
on everything.

The yellow skies
on noisy evenings…

Strawberry Waves & A Red Painted Smile

“What can you see
when you think of me older?
Will I grow colder, Will I be wild?”
I can see you, my dear,
as clear as a crystal
with strawberry waves
and a red painted smile.
You said it sounded
like a beautiful dream.
I can see you as fiery
As the wings of a seraphim –
Strawberry waves
and a red painted smile
coffee past midnight,
impeccable style.

All Of It, Fireworks

I don’t need heaven.
This world is enough.
Some say everything here
Was made just for us –
From the kindness of strangers
To the hardest of blows…
All that we steal, get, give,
All that we throw.

Oh, I don’t need hell.
This world is enough.
Some say everything here
Is cold, wild and rough
From the blood that we spill
To the love we let go
All that we steal, get, give
All that we throw.

All of it fireworks
Oh what a show
All that we question
And all that we know
All of it fireworks
Oh what a show
All that we steal, get, give
All that we throw.

I don’t need dreaming.
This world is enough.
The fact is: art imitates
Life’s smallest stuff…
From the saddest goodbye
To the warmest hello
And all that we steal, get, give
All that we throw.

Speak

Speak to me the words that I crave
as much as rain after a heatwave.
Tell me I’m strong, remind me I’m brave,
Speak to me tenderly, so I don’t cave.

It’s time for something other than mean.
Speak to me, in a voice serene
Like pardon for a grievous sin…
I need it, man, all over my skin.

Speak to me kind- I’m in need of care,
in a tone so fine like baby hair,
As sweet and gentle as a prayer…
I need it man, and it’s time to play fair.

Speak to me light, like a kite on a string.
Like winter fading into spring.
Thank you, now and please, I think…
Just something darling, for the bee sting.

Like smoke rising from a warm fire,
Speak to me kindly, show me desire.
Are you as fluent in the language of love,
As you are in the tongue of a natural liar?

Speak to me easy now, let us not brawl.
We’re stuck out at sea and in need of landfall,
Yet far from the worst things that could befall…
So speak to me tender, or say nothing at all.

Hermana

You’ve got a secret smile
While I’ve got a secret mind.
You’re steady as a tree
And I crash just like the sea.
Through storms and brighter days,
And our ever-changing ways.
In every step of the way, I find
I’ve got all of you.

From milk to whiskey sour,
Bedtime and happy hour…
From crayons to tattoos…
We grew up out of the blue.
Through stresses and progresses
And different town addresses…
In every step of the way, I find
I’ve got all of you.

I know the laugh to cling to,
When feeling sad and blue.
The sense you talk me into,
When I’m a rusty screw.
When leaning heavy over,
I know I’ve got your shoulders too.
In every step of the way, I find
I’ve got all of you.