worst

to prepare

i dialogue

with you in my mind
as i assume and find

the worst.




to repair

i distance

 all known reality
that shown through brevity

& the worst

is you
standing close, still. to me

as i assume

the worst
of you.

who is worst? the one who hurts.

plodding days

rain spittle and train 's brittle travel

on tracks of iron

speak me softly into the joy

the tip of my heart had temporarily 

forgotten.

pulled

we must always veer
from extremes
lest our fears
became reality.

one vision may evoke
that path marked off,
fear of choking
killing possibility.

I have found
leaving all open
provides ample ground,
while footing of stone
keep us from slipping under deserts of direction,
from quipping into sink hole
left unknown.

well kown, well grown are we!
who come so far just to find
ambiguity.

more so than me,
Morse code conducts conversations caught
click by click
in hesitant heresy.

to make voice less than human; to give but beepping rhyme,

but, oh, how I am guilty
of taking the reality out of rational.

my own compromise disguises my fears;
my fears disguising my own compromise

and Job telling, "God, what gives"
And Biliad blaming me,
"You see! what unrighteousness have ye?"

but though pits fall,
they grow again.
once spit out from juicy flesh,
must die to bring forth more.

where is the line of dying and death?
what constitutes difference of noun and verb,
like ser and estar we are told;
gringos just learning the difference between state and fact:

if dying is to be made darker,
then death is to remain dark.
but even pain fades,
till every tear is wiped away.

smile

i wonder if your smile
was ever for me.
pursed, photo lips because
you thought
"she'll see this."

i hope not.

it would just be

another lie.

hard.

I don't like to say that things are hard.
perhaps, because them i am weak,
perhaps, because then i am complaining,
perhaps, because then i am challenging the path i am on,

challenging my ability to press on.

I don't like to say that things are hard.
maybe, because then i could give myself grace,
maybe, because then i would have less responsibility,
maybe, because then i'd have to rely on other humans for support

and i don't want to do that.

i want to speak of you,
to speak with you,
to have you here.

not because i want you,
but because i miss you

and this is hard.

but, i can in no way speak,
make no sound that may ripple your surface,
that may tremor your experience far away.

instead, i'll pray.
because this is hard.

first snow

they whirled in ,
giving form to sharp cold that had been biting ears,
presenting softness, reflecting our blankets much more than the air they inhabited.

the sun shown,
adding brilliance to arrival of first snow,
and i thought, momentarily, that i wanted you here to share fervent flurries;

as quickly as they came,
their parade withered down to wet sidewalks,
leaving no trace of their grand austere that, for moments, dominated our world.

and i am left
with meltings of you, dampening my heart.
the fading of reality, distant as exquisite  crystal tracings in warm palms.

is our story the same as white blankets melted?

play dead

Done

with 

idle

pretending

that 

wounds

 myself

and everyone else

including you

who I thought

I was

protecting.

foolish child.

no such thing

as protecting.

only pretending.

Am I Done

pretending 

that i want you?

goshen autumn

distracted as the side walk
who slopes down to puddle rain
contemplation disturbed
by a thousand pinches of refrain

distracted as the button
given much stress
not asked to do more than its occupation
but threaded with cords of unrest.

distracted as the pages
flipped through by one fervently searching
no answer to be found unless taken
slowly
to hear the sound of each finger turning.

distracted, but not dismissed
not present, but tallied any how.
the presence of form does not excuse the lack of response when called,
the lack of a verbal, "Here."

no. the pane rattles too eloquently to be ignored.
it also requires my presence
as round gems form on slippery slope--
who else will trace their path?

I am needed to take notice
to watch the rain as others adhere to the lesson--
less than wanting of my distraction
that chills essence as we rub our palms,
gray howling noise in the distance becomes
my anthem.

not very far are those outside.

tangled mess

"I led them 

with cords of human kindness, 

with ties of love; 

I lifted the yoke from their neck

and bent down to feed them."

Who is speaking?

does this not sound like the carpenter?

I tell you the truth,

these words were spoken

before his body was broken;

before we replaced his body

in unity

as the body of Christ.

Already,

Yahweh speaks

of humans

as his hands,

handed down from the nation

the new testament

holds nothing new. 

"How can I give you up, Ephraim? 

How can I hand you over, Israel?

My heart is changed within me; all my compassion is aroused."

From where is this passage?

not from the mouth of Christ,

but from before
him who was

before.

How then, can any call my God

cruel?

because we suffer the actions of fellow humus?

because pain plays part 

in our existence?

you run the risk 

of ruin

 when you create,

run the risk 

of pain

when you live,

run the risk

of loss

when you love,

in this world.

Take Heart.

 He has over come the World.

expression, outloud

sometimes
we laugh quietly to ourselves
while others are in the room

because
 we want
to be heard.

for others present
to ask

"What's so funny?"

sometimes
we cry obnoxiously to ourselves
while others ignore

because
we want
to hurt.

for others present
to ask

"Was that not funny?"

but still, our expression
may go beyound our wanting,
beyond our caring,

Laughing for sake
of joy
despite who is near by to hear.

Crying
despite our deisre
to remain invisible to all near.

Can expression outloud be forgiven
for disturbing our neighbor

with sound
with guilt
with common thought
with attempt or accident

of shared emotion?

the individual man does not exists.

if he is not accompanied by somebody,
he is always accompanied


by himself.

words reordered: new definition of commitment

hello?
hello?

can we just be friends?
can we just

befriend
&
learn

from one another
and use our heads?

I believe you
when you say

you love me

I believe you
when you said

you're happier
with me by your side.

That is valuable;
Honorable.

but, do not deceive yourself.

I am not the source,
I am not the light.

I may be a bulb,
a star,
or more likly, a moon.

yes, you've never felt this.
yes, this is

good.

but, how you have deceived yourself.
How we have deceived ourselves

to think we were more

than ordinary

Humans.

We are normal people,
who fell the same way as other
ordinary people

who learn, and live,

and grow.

there is nothing
extra
to our ordinary,

not even our pride, or delusion, or hope.

Our belief that somehow

our first

was meant
to be

our last

is a normal hope.
a normal deception.
a normal pride,

that we're different from everybody else
who's saying
the exact same
ordinarily
extra-
ordinary things.

so, instead of deception, let's cling to hope.

let us add unto ourselves
understanding,
opening up our hearts for other,
opening up our hearts for each other

killing expectations
to cultivate
learning.

I am not your Wife.
You are not my Husband.

perhaps one day,
if we become
extra-ordinarily
different
from who we are
then we could cultivate a life

together.

but today,
we have come,
extra ordinary,
different,
from who we each are,
that we may cultivate life

together.

will you,
with me, seek promise of life
in place
of promise of life with me?

There always remains

Hope when Faith learns to Love.

laugh

"that used to make you laugh."

well, i was frustrated with never knowing.
with hearing you say one thing, hiding behind yourself.

I'm sorry that i didn't laugh,
or perhaps i apologize that i did.

for none should laugh unless they mean it.

laughter is more powerful than tears.

how then, shall i make you laugh?
how then, shall we brings smiles to our faces?

a midst adversity, and quandery, and findings-out, and fighting doubt,

how do i let you know

I am here

to be your friend,
           not a fiend,
       or your fire

but simply to be

and beat

what we have

to get through.

all i want
is be a team.

let's laugh,
and not take ourselves too seriously.

space.

movement loudens
in empty space

de-familiarizing
places once filled

every movement
now thought out

every breath
known to walls

and ceiling
and floors
and crevices
                    we now take notice of.

silence seems superb  when unheard,
but when standing in for laughter,

it daunts.

draft directions for infection, holding firm voice of vastness
too much
for us
to think about,
that grasps us,
when questions quake
all the more.


the buzz
of halogen of fluorescent bulbs

let us know our answer.

oh, bother

why bother?
why bother?
why bother me?

Fine, fine,
finite i was
till your existence-- as flesh-- as human
came up
in electronic discourse.

why would you think i'd want to know?
why should you tell
you took your token
taken off
then, Hell!

break loose already!
slipping back into your collar,
claiming my silver initials
as your address.

why would you think i'd want to know?
to know
that you took off
then took
back on.

but of course i want to know!
to know your thoughts.

of course i want to know!

but why,

why did you tell me?
so that i would know?

i don't want to know.

so why did you tell?
why tell me?

oh, bother, bother,
little bear.

think, think, think.

forget, forget, regret.
you bother, bother me

so that i could see,
                          see
                          see.

                                                                                     please leave me.

starry starry w*rds

just because you align starts
after the first letter

doesn't mean you didn't say it.

if you meant it, you mean it.
if your mean 'bout it,  you mint it.

should we sign our letters,

"L***"

another four letter word
that we don't mean when we say
that's stronger
than lemon and water--
richer than cream spilling from your mouth,

mouthing words with stars,

starry starry starry nights
full of
starry starry starry eyes
filling mouths with
starry starry words

without meaning any how.

But, don't you know?
none know what they mean when they say four letter words,

but i know,
what i've done.

bound myself in some way to you.

don't you know,
i'll always L-l-l-o....
                                                        i'll always love you.

but i don't L*** you.
not that starry starry word.

because you make me feel like s***
your favorite starry starry word.

it's not gonna be easy,
loving you, not L**ing you.

not gonna be easy,
but
so, so worth it.

we should.

we should do that,
we should, we should.

this place, this time,
we should, we should.

planing plants embers in hoping hearts;
plans abandoned prove little harm
unless, of course,
you never can.

we should, we should.
should we?
can we?
will we?

but if severed, no longer postponed,
by now lies
lie there
dead.

how do we keep from lying?
from living?
giving, going, knowing?

we should, we should.

should we
be?

mayflies.

brooding and breeding and braiding, and brooding
two small specks,
one speck,
spoke--
"i say live, i say live!"
speculate spectacular,
spaces splice sincerity,
"i say live, i say live!"



"i don't know how to do that."



He came that they may have life,

have   a    life.

and have it
               more abundantly.



abundance flows,
though,
they can't quite get right the contritite,
the spirit,

b r o k e n

of them selves.

no, not quite right
the wholly holy,

holy wholly thing.
can't quite get it down.
instead we go round,

round the bouts of buts and then's till when

we've withered and worn ourselves out.

now?

i'm down
to be donned with the least of these.

yes, all i ever wanted
was to be added unto thee.

to be added,
to add,
arithmetic that does not compute to fleshy eyes
through my eyes,
oh thine! oh thine!

have they seen the glory?

O, morning glories creep,
and

bloom.

as does the remnant left tangled in their vines.

remain in you,
i shall.

and life, too,
comes through.



to be two specks,
oh, rather,
to be a spectacle

of you.

hosiery

in place of make up,
i color my legs.

long, extensions of myself
protruding from gray and green.

less time it takes
than shaving legs.

less attention brought
to un-aided scars.

scars of summer,
of wood and rock.

scares of hiding
of scrapes in brush.

quicker to divide
and mask my imperfections
than to give time
to societies infection.

so i compromise.

nice legs, less work.

who will see?

only me, yes only me.

psalm 1

How human
are you?

How much humus has held your hands?
Has grasped your gasp
and silenced your sound?

How divine
are we?

How much Holy holds us dear?
Has faith quenched fear,
or peace produced tear?

yet we turn, turn, turn.
call out " turn!"
turn the tables
and turbulent
thoughts.

lost.
but, human, you were,
for a season,
for a time.

but, gods, we are not.
for some reason,
that tends to thought.

How shall blending then pursue?
for in you, there was,
and always shall be,
remnant.
renewal.
reconcile.

r e c o n c i l e.

bring the two which could not be brought together.
make them one.
Is this not love?

how then,
shall we grow?

My God, My God,

show me

what I need

to believe




               today.

hiding in hearts

I let you go
once
already.

You snuck back in,
a child rolled up in business suits,
waiting for the suitcase to close,
for me
to take you with.

But no carry-on should weigh so much.
you snuck,
but not so well,
like a child,
I can tell

you're there.

First I played along,
almost hoping too,
that you could come.

I say aloud,
"my, my,

I hope

the flight attendant can load this one.
I seemed to have over packed."

you snicker in hidden space.

I sigh,
letting you down at the door,
knowing I can not leave
with you
as baggage.

"where I am going,
you cannot come."

Protest does nothing to change the fact.
My own want
wants nothing more
than to store you close,
for when I wish
to be near you.

"Where are you going?
may I come?"

Alas, you are not a child.
This, you never ask.

You, too comfortable in your place,
I, too dedicated
to my way.

Where I am going,
I wish you would come.

nostalgia and paths home: symbols of Chinese Lit.

do you ever miss the moon
from here?
a paler complexion, perhaps, where you now stand

among people not your own.

have you found it home?

or do paths call to you to come;

come what stays.

my heart is happy
for you,

now
that we're a
                  part.
a part
of me travels
in your pocket,
on a cherry branch

but not all
of me.

Not All of You
is as you think.

i hope you know that,
and sow according to what you've been given.

Please sow.
please sow fruitful deeds of which you are capable,
understanding the blossom from which
they
      fell.
from which you fell.

standing on your own
proves
          hard.

as my sun sets, may yours arise.
as it has always been
between us two.

heresy

I think you'd like
the expansion of my mind,
the opening of my heart.

while I venture wisps & whispers of God,
I remain true to my base,
or
so I believe.

I think my mother
would rather I not venture
too far out
lest I be stolen by currents too strong.

but I believe,
or so I think
That I am firmly holding on
In Hope,
In Faith,
In Love to my Creator,
whatever that means,
for my Creator knows me,
as he knows you,
and will not forsake you.

So I ask,
"what is Hersey?"
so I say, "let us venture here awhile
and decide for ourselves
how dangerous thought really is."

but of course there is danger in thinking,
of course there is danger in feeling
of course there is  danger in choosing
in living, in trusting, in letting go of things you've known
to re-evaluate
and equate it to those things
distant.

or are you too afraid that your god will not keep you?
Take heart-- he is always there.
Give heart-- for that's his only want.

humans donned in the image of God,
"I just wanted you to Love me!"

                       just wanted                       to love me.
                                                     you
                                                          

is it such heresy
where faith, and hope,
and love
spur searching?

may we search ourselves and
obey.

quiet words.

i love you so much,

i will do any thing to bring you back to me.

it will seem like pain,

and you will spurn me,

but your enemies will be vanquished after

they have vanquished you

and you have learned

to love the one

you should.

learned to humble

yourself.

then, as you hold on, in hope, through harsh times, i will come to you,a you accept and rebuke,

For my sake, i will forgive you,

oh my love,

oh, Jeru!

I will come to you in the silence.

bueno.

It is well, it is well
with my soul
as i dwell
not in past
but in thy present.

Welling up, whelming with

peace.


so much joy,
so much light
                       i wish to share.
He is leading me again!


Hallelujah, my god tugs at my heart again, placing me in places of need.

It is well
it is swell with my soul.

my love, i wish you were here to smile with me.
my dear, i wish you would hear to smile with me.

is your heart calloused? or is it healing flesh?
may you come home to me
ready
to be
hear.

dear, aaron

this blog seems to have become for you.
before,
it was for me,
and perhaps it will continue
to be for me,
to figure things out; to use word and space as a grounding
of faith,
Questions,

life.

but, it has also become for you.
though you may never see it,

and passers-by may stumble upon my queries,
i will come here or to my book
when i want to speak

to you

for my silence

to you

is out of Love.
Out of Trust.

That I Must do What I Must,

as you too,

do what you're supposed to.

understanding the sacrifice that comes with the best interest of others
can be
difficult.

But i trust
one must

obey.


Dear, who do you obey?

smile

selfish part of me wishes

I could be there.

 to share in you light,
oh, how brief delight appears with you.

by miles off, you smile.
you breathe,
you

live.

teeter

common thought string theories,
             again, again, i hear
                                i know

working, always working

                   in ways unknown
you are in
his works
                     not forgotten,

but, still voice cries,

                                                         "not yet"
                                                                 not complete.

how can my mind expand without spanning beyond?

still,
    Lord tells me,

wait and do
                               what you're supposed to.


I am waiting, but not for you, my lover.

 I am waiting on the Lord

                                                                                 are you not part of a promise?

flesh

what is God feeling?
have we ever asked that?
we tell him that it is not fair. but what do we let him tell us?

maybe we go through frustration
to find out what he's been through.
maybe a prostitute helps a prophet
understand
more deeply his beloved God.

watching, again, and a g a i n
his wife
leave him.
turn
from him.
has God not experienced that?

a wife
badgers her husband,
the american classic,
to come to church.
he
refuses.
he knows best, and knows his truth.
wife sees the coldness,
and cries.
has God not experienced that?

what is he teaching us?

to be more introspective,
to broaden our world view;
to love people a little more,
to back off once in awhile;
to love with timidity,
to love whole heatedly;
to understand other's belief,
to know he is the one true God;

are we learning?

perhaps
           Marriage
is not meant to make us happy,
but
to make us holy.

perhaps,
            Our Other Half
is meant to test us,
and
make us Whole.

perhaps,
            Loving You
is not
what all this is about,
but
makes it easier;
             makes it harder;

    makes it worth it.

the one who can accept singleness ought,
for the man who marries will have many troubles.

our trouble?

two trying to be one.

is God not
trying
to be one with us?

flesh of my flesh,
                bone of my bone!

 Eve in the Image of Adam.
 Life in the Image of Man.
Man in the Image of God

                                           and yet we try to live Life without God.

what are you God?
you are not humus,
not wrought from clay.
             you are not bound to ground.

how then, shall we call you,
                         for man was called of what he was made.
                                                                                           Yahweh.
                                                                                           almighty, strength, salvation, liberation.

this is how you are called.
oh merciful,
what do you cry out?
                               
may we seek
          to understand,

not to be
 understood.

fikle filament

This
      was our couch.

No. this is just    a   couch.
               
                            construction of fiber & thread.


In memory of you,
I shall devoid all meaning
   
                            do you remember? what you taught?
                                            nothing matters.



                                                                                   meaning is only derived
                                                        from human sides
In memory of you,
this is just a couch.


                                                        no meaning of you.

whim

i want you close,
but i'm glad you're far


so i can't
create
              another scar.

role playing

my role
is not
to please you.
                     my heart
                     is not
                     your burden to bear.
        I  a m
                    finally
asking
questions
              i never had.
                                                   were any of my thoughts
                                                                                      my own?                                          

                                                                            if i had Known

                                                                                                                i was only pleasing
                                                                                                                         only playing
                                                                                                               a role
                                                                             
                                                                   would i have
                                                                                        done
                                                                                    anything    else?

you chided me for such childishness
                                               now
                                let us be
                                              grown up.
                                                              resolute, strong.

                                                                     road, long.
                                                                                                                    My God is with me.

kindled

Peace surrounds
          soun ding
                       familiar.

Joy abounds
       bin ding
                  failings.

                                                     start      f    o   r  g e  t   i   n   g        and let
                                                                                                                           g o.

                                                     forget     g   e  t t  i  n  g  and
                                                                                                             Go.


                                          step by breath
                                                           beating,
                                               bating.

though it's hidden under rocks,
i know
          we'll find
                                    hope.

               we can          cope.
                                                                           though it's buried 'neath branches,
                                                                           i know
                                                                                   we'll clear
                                                                                                            out.
                                                                                    a l l               doubt.


prayer un ceasing,
                         till we breathe
                                                      praise.

                     pain is ceasing till we           stave.

        i'll keep going                'cause i

                                              Know.                                                                 we've got hope.
 

progression

  Boo.

Truth

Pissed me off!!

http://youtu.be/FvbErM6ZTBA

http://youtu.be/CzTFqKc5hT4

Penguin & Arms

us, together

       defile.

         miles.

reconcile.

       

                                            

mirth

Glad to see
 your teeth.

silly thing to say,
                  nay,
the perfect thing,
the perfect thing to see.

sun's rising, knees leaning,
hopes hopping for joy

to know
      your soul.

so soles have come to know new places,
                                          found joy in spaces
once regarded with the cry,

                                            "I'll be home soon."

tears the tear my tarry on,

                          that black cord
                                          clutching my ankle,
                                          making me trip.
                          that battered band
                                           grabbing my wrist
                                           forcing a twist.

now i find
          i missed my times
        of missing you.

                                              forgotten in my own mirth,
                                               finding only hopes as you tread this earth
                                                          to have happiness
                              that is your own
                                                          and one day
                                                                                      Come Home

Dreaded cord gone,                              o  n.
              core gone                   e       i
                        on to            r      c  t
                        a new         i
                                       d        

                                                             who directs you?
                                                            what are you running from?

squelched in silence,

mayInolongerbe.
                               when will you hear?
                              when will you, here
                                                              know
                                                                    you're true home from which




you've been running.

                    un-ing all that was told you
                                                for new
                                                           venue.


I find i miss you not.
then i find i miss you    
                                    d
                                    E
                                    E  
                                    p.
then i understand,
                         and smile
                                    and  w
                                               e
                                                e
                                                   p.

sweeping you under the rug.
                      another rung,
I'm
                        OUT

   of  this  hole.
and i'm Whole.

why is everything i hate 
My  within self

so wrapped around,
                    drowned
in
you?

you were right, as i'm sure,
                            you're glad
to hear

           we are
                      p e r f e c t 
                                                   for each other,

so wrapped in the rightness of ourselves,
                     our knowings of,
                     our knowing knots.

not A  thing I could say TO                    U
                                                        S      R P R I S E                  U.


 for you know,

i know you know or think you know
                                             o,  u          no
                                                         knot


no no 
  no O
N                      tangled in what
                                i can not do with you.


no, no knot with you.


know, know not 


                           of you.




                                                                                               leave me now,
                                                                                                          now that i
                                                                                                       Know,
                                                                                                         no,
                                                                                                        not
                                                                                                              of you. 


                                               

seams

By now it seams,
               or so i sought;
                   sew, i ought.

but not it seams
                though it's not fare
                      oh, it's not tare
                                       who
                                             climbs
                                                my walls
                                clinging all but ground .
no, I lie asleep
     i'd lie a heap
             to say
                                 i'm not broken.

but so it seams,
       but sew, it seems,

                        so none may see

                         broken, under
                                        neath

neath the earth,
the humus of your wrought,

so you've seen


                                           the human you had lost.
                     


          

Strength in Simplicity and Honesty of Speech: Yusef Komunyakaa on the Vietnam War

       To write is to speak, and to speak is take action. The question is, how well are we able to communicate with one another and for what cause?

Accapella Poems

take a look at some renditions of poems that appear in A Capella.

#11 Hears my heart, Lord                                                                                                      By Natasha Weisenbeck

A change in carpet,

a change in canvas bound song

follow my change in hook to hang my coat.

Congregation, Arise.

Arise the hymnal,

Arise in song.

these rough hands with rougher voices to hold the tune,

I am immune.

But here I find no need to grit my ear; 

distance from droning, now I here.

Arise in blue hymnal

Arise in old song.

Tune my heart to sing thy grace.

Are these the hands meant to play the senses of those torn from home?

Let thy grace now, like a feather,

Lift my wondering heart to thee.

Across a campus of inky trees I hear two things:

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it,

I hear,

Let me go Home.

Have I come home to a place I never knew?

Am I prone to leave the God I love?

Prone to search through borrowed rooms and well-crafted doors

Made by the hands

Of Mennonites?

You are not here, Oh Lord;

not in the crevices I seek

for you are not hiding.

Love, Arise.

Arise in blue hymnal,

Arise in old song,

in hearts of Anabaptist

who only call you

Home.

#8 A day's work.                                                                                                                           By Natasha Weisenbeck

Though we are not farmers,
sawdust in our nostrils made our snot thick enough to blow.

The smell of those flecks—the smell of wood-- filled our lungs for work,

Hammering galvanized nails and thumbnails in one fell

just to rip and bend and hammer the same iron into other beams.

Our sweat was mother’s cool tea, trickling from our throats to our brows, to our backs.

There were generators coughing gas clouds to yell over

And ladders to wobble on

Before we could hop into the solid Ford to drink spaghetti pots full of mother’s life-giving liquid

again.                                                                                                                                                   

Not till there was enough plaster on my shoulders

Not till there were enough shavings on dad’s nose

Till there were enough mistakes made to make us think of giving up

Not till then would he awake the faithful truck with a gastric sneeze at the turn of the key

Not till then would he tell me to shift the old gears into drive.

The sun slants as we amble through the back door,

telling more stories of gore than glory,

learning to laugh at mishaps that chaffed

our knuckles and took our buckles

right off of our belts.

And mother would serve us --scraped arms and sweaty backs-- splattered, messy children and father–

she scooped nourishment

onto our plate.

It was those days of work

that truly brought

Rest.

Poetry: The Art of Play

Action and creativity within a specific role serve as a base definition for all 90 definitions associated with the word “play” of the English language. We see these three aspects as a child plays, discovering new schemas by which to interact with his world and find where he belongs through role play. The poet analyzes words and sounds as the child plays with blocks and gravity; the poet discovers new venues of communication while the child discovers basic physics. Play serves five main purposes in poetry and life: To recreate observances, to find new solutions, to explore roles of self and others, to work within a set of rules, and to imagine. By “playing with language,” poets achieve a variety of purposes, from preserving heritage, to spurring social reform; each poet plays with in his own means. But what separates poetry from other creative forms of language?  The partition of poetry is the content communicated; that content is obscure.

name me

you're so small under that tree,
framed by an arch.
encased by branches you seem
almost unreal,
you and your companion,
faces blurred by distance and dew.

who are you? your story, please?
for me, you exsist in this monemt, the two of you.
no name, no story
except what i choose to give you.

in my mind, you are under my power.
identity and past are mine for mere seconds
and you
the two of you
have no inkling of the power i poses to name you,
to speak falsly
of you.

no power exsits
but in the mind.

you leave your tree behind,
rendering your memory
a thought
rendering my power
gone.

absorbtion

just the right weight.
the right sound
hounding the ground's
 gruff reply with a sigh
that stirres
worms.

i've missed you old friend
i've missed your wieght,
your intimate touch that chills
my shoulders,
the absorbtion
into my robe that weighs
weighs me down till i can no longer walk
& must run.
(and drench my covering even more in you)

the movement that slows cars' passage and thins crowds promenades
multipling in speed and number
so numerous
that i drop
ear to earth

listen.

bees cannot fly as buds begin to branch
birds ruffle their neckties, vernal's song now taking harmony line.

grumble like hunger
hunger, hungry child
the grass suffers from hunger pangs as sky groans them out.

i missed you, i've missed you old friend!
your scent had strayed from my jacket
you mark dried from my collar over the months.
now at last, you smother my neck with kisses
crying at our reunion, oh,
rain ran down my rags to the ground and drowned my rings of rapture.

floods follow friendships rekindled.

snap in the sky to awaken
to terrify the trembling, the cold caught too long in your arms;
the dead sunk to low in your bosom.

did they not know how to touch you?
how to savor  your wrath?
raft ties together bits of broken trees,
floating above my dear's downpour as she pelts peonies.

greetings swell; she will smile.
old friend will wave a color of farewell,

ground
still wet
from weeping.

just above you blue

      i want to be
            sky blue.

not far into the distance, bright eyed blue of babies, but
                                                                                        that right above you
                                                                              blue.

the blue of ribbons
   and corn flowers.
the blue that grows dark
                                 as the storm plots its course

right above you blue
                  backdrops clouds
                                   the best

                                                           their bellies slipping by bystanders waving bye;
                                                            not the object of their view.


                             just above you blue
                             queries qualms that quite
                                                            inquisitors' requests.

above you blue feigns less optimistic than horizon
                                     less tumult that storm gray
                                     but
                                     more brilliant than morning indigo
                                                                                                 who pricks herself,
                                                                                                         bleeding light.



right above you blue
                                  begs

                                   for attention
                                                                      while quietly capping  gowns
                                                                      pressuring winds to slowdown,

                                                  cold as crrius
                                                   warm as sun.

                                                                                   

                                  up?
   do you ever look