Fly Me To The Moon

I don’t want directions. Signs
And arrows, instructions, and
Soon, who knows, a checklist
Of do’s, don’ts, definitely nots. Just
Give me wings, don’t make me
Flap my arms and tell me I must
Flap faster if I want this to
Work. And that wind beneath
My wings, for the love of god,
Don’t make me search a
Lifetime don’t make me crawl
Under every stone, fall
Into every ravine, creep
Into every crevice, sleep
Away a lifetime just so I
Can keep dreaming. Beaming
Moonshine at me isn’t hard
To do. If you really want something to
Point me to, turn my face so
I can see the turning blue planet
I was meant to be. Each ocean
And mountain clear to my eye
Every leaf and stone exposed to my
Moon-standing self. I’ll fold
My wings, blow out the wind,
If once I could see everything
I am and was meant to be.

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Courage VI

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Things have a way of freezing
Differently. Mountains expose
Their bones, ribs of eruptions past
One over the other, ceasing
Only to fall in line with those
Fault lines Spring hides. Fast
And furious run your rivers
Racing ahead of those wintry blasts
Terrified of stiffening into slivers
That once were ripples, tearing
The smoothness of surface ice. Wearing
The grass that cold crisps into blades
The differently freezing earth brings
No herald of bubbling springs. The thaw,
If it comes, will escape on your breath
A defiance of death, the chill air
Your heart warms. Courage is the air
Your frozen blood sings.

Courage IV

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I want to be the rain
That is driven up shields of glass
Against all laws of nature and grief
I want to know that as
I fall from skies shedding legions
Of such as me, over loaded over crowded
Bent on hurtling earthwards, that I
Will rise again, pushed onwards
On wings of air, knowing when
And where, the edge of glass meets
The skies. Not this me
Strapped and seated
Watching the road fly past through
Streaks of water. Strapped
And seated, not
Undefeated.

The sea, like grey silk

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The sea like grey silk
Clothes its depths in
Shimmering sadness. And
Grief is not a cliff that
Demands that you leap, but
Every shipwreck knows that
There is a limit to
How long it can keep its
Secrets in the deep before
The sea strips all veneer, and
They rise, cliff like, to crash
On unclothed shores.

End Of The Road

If there’s an ocean at the end
Of the street, even the puddles
Seem headed that way. The huddled
Buildings, grey and blue, bend
Their angular corners towards the hills
If the end of the street so wills.
I think, as my feet aimlessly wend
Their way down foreign streets,
That there must be a mountain,
An ocean, a future, to meet.

Cry Me A River

You see that streak in the middle?
That looks like a river? It was actually
A little sliver of rain, just a drop, really,
The only one left after the wind
Had dried the rain that fell constantly
That day. I wanted a picture
Of the mountains streaked with ice
Vivid under the flat grey of the skies
And I didn’t see that single streak
Slipping down the glass windscreen
Carving a seeming crevasse on the peak.
You won’t notice, unless you’re very near,
The mountain, moved by a tear.