Drifter

I am the drifter

 the  lone (wo)man

the flake on which

Whoville stands.

I am the drifter,

one kicked up like dust

that when settled on glass

protects vision's trust. 

I am the drifter

the renegade bag

who tears from backseats

 finding bushes that snag.

I am the drifter,

the one who knows

many

and few

and this person

who is my own.

I am the drifter

looking over the moor

swaying with lantern

as I rest these oars.

I am the drifter

the dried and the wet--

the leaves and grass clipping, 

the petal that went.

I know no one location--

no one home for eye--

a steady comfort of constant supply,

seeking families far and near to enter in

to laugh, be filled, depart, and return

to enter in.

the one who holds,  but lets grasp slip

who some call by name

and even fewer miss.

the one who catches glance before running past

whom with moments you share

that may or may not last.

I am the drifter 

who seeks to be seen

and also to hide--

hold and deny

O, the drifter, 

am I?

Now I Might Observe Silent Assurance

it makes me wretch inside
to see "dear" addressed to you
to hear her say,
in type,
"your love is to heavy,"

no wrong have you done.
you need someone to love.

you
chose me.

and i ran- pushed

you away.

"your love is to heavy,"
no-- not from me.

I was too scared
of being left

of being unhappy

till my fears fell through
cut to truth--
became reality.

no longer do i pretend i can Know you-

you do not know yourself,

or,

do you?


can anyone know a person
when we are
constant
change?

bound

passing fables down the table
like potatoes and green beans--
no one takes the last spoon full,
all eye  last roll
and cross contamination comes when spoons are shared. 

i feel so small when not allowed speech-- when not allowed answer--
when rutted in roots that mangle tangles of brainstem
and stream
from eyes to lies left from one perspective to another.

how are we real and why deal
with what we dealt when we can call one more
to bust--
to break, to bend, to push our luck till stuck
with empty pockets of worth.

smile blankly, love like blankets-- you are my soul
and know little
of my mind.

thee hated of me

which is greater-- to love despite dislike
despite despise disgust mis-trust
dirty dinner dust
swept beneath carpet of our skin
dirtying our with-in
to find a rag some where
to wipe clean the lens
that allows light in;
to change perception and put down pride

or

to find one's self and surround
with those abounding in what you have found to be astounding,
grounding and giving, worth living for
and
for them?

at what measure does one stay because you're needed,
nay, presence wanted,
wanton wanting of weariness and waking starts

at what measure
does one take the toll of reprimand of self, of demand to not be what one is;
to become different, to suppress, or more so surprise oneself with what one can disguise?

but where does one find core, and betray anything below mantle boiling,
only instead to make low the mountains and fill the valleys,
smoothing edges the bump as stone tossed by sea and sand
to become a meeting place
for God-- for goddness
possibly
of humanity?

God is good,  the pastor said,
           all the time,  we reply,
all the time  he responds,
        God is Good, we move on.

here stands I
and you, and mother's daughter and sons of sisters too,
here we stand at the the point of compromise,
the place where we know not what to do.

how far removed
must we become
to become life abandoned
for life abounding.

there was man
impressed by me--
silver tongue and wit had I said he.

but spirit warned of wander ways,
i stay away and come to thee.

thee
who finds no degree of honor with me.
no feature beyond skin of which to be praised.
only once said, fallen in love with kindness,
but thus was lost when uncovered my blindness.

but love so strong of one you hate.

have I hated the one who loves me,
or loved the one who hates me?

at what point are these features opposite,

for do we not choose, and thus control,
while having no choice, and no control?

oh, stole,
stolen dear,
steal away with me
from my mind and misconceptions,
deceptions
untold
till we find ourselves as humans
forgetting all known unknown.

let us fie, fie on thee!
oh, lie, lie
you lie next to me.
but how brittle till one tongue breaks?
how brittle
till one earthen heart quakes?
and wakes instead
all nightmares hidden from

foaming forth in mass array
these truths our words cannot say
that swallow both our voice and measure
our intent, self, and one another.

 still, heart grows hardened till broken open
and i allow
cracked light to enter
caring not offenses done
caring only for arms and sun.

came that they may have life!
Life! more abundantly

I have life when i forgive thee.
do you have life?
do you ever forgive

me
for being
me?

it's nice to be praised for ability

to be know 

and seen

as something worth seeing.

but what grows us then?

when challenged not?

what forms our hearts?

if not told where to start?

you i hate who does not adore

but you i love who loves not what i fight for

may compassion and forgiveness seep;

may my mind at some point sleep

and sleep next to thee who chose me

foolishly

but loves my office,

my position

in loo of what 

I am. 

jeans

i changed again
to jeans
so they can hug me
when you won't.

i changed again
to fit
my need to hide;
to not stand out.

i changed again
to justify
my faded feeling,
washed with withdrawal

from you.


but i spoke
words
too loud
               deafening your delicate ears,
                              your delicate mask
                               your false
                                              identity.

but i've always lived
my life
          out loud--
          twirling in skirts
                                you loved
         twirling with thoughts
                               you abhorred.

i use lower case i's
to fit my thighs
inside jeans
of humility,
                 no,
                 of hiding myself
                 LOUD.

Alice, I am.

trapped
and i want out the kennel
my master
put me in.

whimpering, whining--  letting distress be known
only goads my master,
shooting sharp eyes and shouts of, "stop crying!"

glass pane door between--
cold, transparent-- I can see, but he remains out of reach
when he does not wish to sit with me.

but other times he begs, "up up!"
"Kisses!"
and gives hugs, love, play;
provides my needs even when hinders or hurts him, but--

often time
tiny hurts
throw me out

until
he decides
he needs me and wants me
back

next to him.
                       I comply.

softly selfish

i pretend
just in this moment suspended
that everything is fine.

curpusculars, warm winds,
and Ivory
of piano keys

make me believe
that every child's tum
is a full,
and round
as mine.

that the sirens of hospitals across the way
have ceased
not just for now
for how long this moment lasts

and delusion
is that it will last forever,

for forever is moment-- it exsits only in our mind,
as does this beauty,
a capturing of rays spilled from a slowly dimming star
as does these words echoing out chapped lips,
only gargled noise,
reverberations whisper to you who are far,
"I love you," as though you are near

as i believe
in my figment
in my mind
in my heart.

I will take a selfish moment
to believe that all is well.

that parents do not scream,
for sound is too soft here, in this moment
that men do not die hungry,
for it is to robust here.

but pretending fades as notes flicker out,
snuffed as delicate smoke

and moments
fade gray.

still,
clouds gleam and babes breathe.
still,
silence washes ovr'this place,
my bosom;
my heart;
my soul, if that is the phrase we wish to use.

I must keep selfish moments like these with me for times
when there is no time
for selfish moments,
no time
for hearts to be free.

i shall put it in my pocket,
as the little diddy goes,
and save it for a gloomy day.


oh, LORD,

be with me,

always.