Write More Poems

this lady
on her bike
standing on the pedals
no helmet,
ciggy dangling
from
her lips,
not looking
where
she's going
swings
into my
lane

my brain says
"Idiot! Do you
want to die today?!"

my heart says
"Daredevil!
I salute thee!"

the goal is simple
pump your legs
lean back
against the chains
up and out
with velocity enough
to loop the top
and wrap the chains
or
failing that
jump
at the top
of the arc
and fly
toward
the sandbox
try not to break
anything

the goal is half magic
swing backwards
and forwards
in time
with this girl you've
you've been playing
at grownups with
giddy together
in this moonlit park
that smells of
cut grass
the sweet dull, ache
of devouring
each other
again and again
this back and forth
on seats too small
for supercharged
bodies, describing
parabolas of pheromones

the goal is to
let go of goals
to simply be
and fly
and laugh
side by side with
this child
to leave your
old man bones
back on earth
and revel with her
at the joy of
all things aerial
higher, higher
and higher still
the ground ten
thousand feet
below
try not to
break anything

Stop writing poetry! Stop it!
These scribbles on screens and
Sheets of crushed trees
Merely indicate the oscillation of air
Flowing past a particular piece of
Meat in the throat
Words say nothing
They are not the thing nor the idea
We are the idea of light
We are the hand that sings
We are the spirit of flight
The thing of things
Running to arrive at where
We already are

But in order to arrive
The journey must be made
There is no forward without a path
No words without breath
Nor steps without feet
Breathe, make pathways, walk
Travel wide
And write more poems

Rain falls straight down
Bright in the sunlight of a half-clouded sky
Against the dark clouds, a rainbow
Vibrant, calm, strong
Some say the
Rainbow is a miracle
Others insist it is the rain
That is the miracle

one dried-up thought fluttertumbles from the idea tree,
one small girl stompkicks the refuse, kicking clichés into color