Windy

On the other side of where you are
there is someplace you want to be
(watch your feet not go straight,
or look up, end up, where you meant).

Some things cannot be compared
(there is too much there where
protons make nebulae eventually)
We cannot choose what to discern,
sentimental bleeds brutal
(we are dots in the world
amidst earthly pixilation)
choosing to not want
it all at once.

But what if we were bewildered always
nighttime crying darkness
morning smiling
all calling
hands flying above
pianoed peace
fingers faintly shaking
eyes averted seeking
where minds go—
that place of no contact
craved and reviled.

In search of somewhere love?
(I should tell you
how my sky breaks
before you make motion in me
know what it's like waking up from a dream in a dream
fantasy blurred and windy).

But I'm Tired

We hold these truths
to be self evident,
but we’re tired?

I know,
no,
that is not
how it goes
but it is hard to know
everyday, to stay on task,
stay and stay,
when it is early
and all I want
is to look away
from little face #22
who has needs
just like you and you
who blinks and says
“But listen, please, just to me
and see the obstacles
I cannot see. See
around what cannot be named
and move aside with ease and grace
all the pain you cannot erase.”

And as if I were just too slow,
you add one more thing and say,
“Ms., if you give up, I’m giving in,”
and truly what now can I do but stay
and say I’ll try for one more day.

Sonnet Song Balance Beam

I will wish you into perfect shape
I’ve wanted for my selfish self alone
and banish all ideas incapable
of making you feel blissfully at home.

I know I am full of mere pipe dreams
that might never near connect,
but if not orchestrated for this theme
what is worthwhile to protect?

You say there is no wrong direction
just a million places we might fall off,
but if you give me your full attention
I would be for you, what is soft.

Come and on my shoulder lay your tension
let me make all pain you feel unmentioned.

Smitten

You’re busy
making me like
alliterations again and
other little things
like smiles.

The world is sudden
and meant for seeing soon
and close and now.

Maybe we will see it as two
kids rolling downhill
green and blue,
green then blue,
green, blue, me, and you.

The things we see
will need to be felt
like red blushing
needs tight cheek muscles
tingling, touching fingers
and smiles.

Life is more
than reflections you know,
more than water blue from sky,

more like
you smiling
from me

and me smiling
from you.

Praxis

“Individuals have the ability to transform dominant discourses for libratory purposes.” – Lisa Delpit

We ask students
to become literate
in the discourse of their oppression
and scream when they will not
conform.

Rational, we remind ourselves
we are rational,
so we must scream
of frustration, not fury

at the need for a language
unknown, no dictionaries
to describe how we might communicate
amidst this messed
socialist experiment.
Test tubed children
as controls, teasing who might make it
to meaningful places
above others.

Success for all mantras along
as long as one is suspended between stairs
climbing somewhere
necessitating lost tracks
of before and after.

Can I arm you to do more
than scramble through clouds
on landscapes unmoving,
spiraling space allegiant to
burning sun?

Even buds compete for sun.
(So it is.)

But buds still come
towards spring -
inching along.