Further north in my mind

Further north in my mind

In some Borealis

There is a simpleness

One room and no palace

Our hearts there residing

In more than a content

With time as currency

We use to pay the rent

Dreams are fabrications

Dreams are fabrications

Woven with lusting hope

I am slothing my steps

Unlike an antelope 

Images of travel

And yet here I am still

Stuck in a postcard of

Me and a windowsill

Empaths have to resign

Empaths have to resign

Narcissists go missing

Choosing their own grandeur 

Far from tangent kissing

We become characters

Banged up cardboard cut-outs

Long dried raisins or prunes

Or an uncomfy couch

No man is an island

No man is an island

What about abstract thought

Singular lightbulbs or

Some imagery not taught

The expectation that

Art must reveal itself

Or destined to become

Poetry on a shelf

Clouds moving like sailboats

Clouds moving like sailboats

Snow blowing off rooftops

Sugar pillowcases 

White crystallized gumdrops

Ending with slanted light

Earth slips on its slipper

And the clouds become still

A lethargic skipper 

Future is a plural

Future is a plural

Uncertainty is All

Opportunity bound

To land upright or fall

Like tree branches or grass

Or changes of a cloud

And the words we speak or

Choose not to say out loud 

The past is not liquid

The past is not liquid

Fingers in Present Lake

The silt will settle if

We decide not to rake

There are days in sunshine

Futures without blemish

When the water is low

A rain must replenish

The Universe ends when

The Universe ends when

Light ceases to be there

And what is the use for 

Time when there is no where

We travel through Life and

Forget our former selves

Not all days of value

But to connect the delves

One leg behind my back

One leg behind my back

At my childhood bus stop

Acting like a cripple 

Unbalanced with each hop 

Wanting people but not

Seeking mere attention

I now realized I

Was needing affection 

After the implosion

After the implosion

The heart finds a landscape

Wyoming to China

From Iceland to Town Cape

Can our lost dreams inspire

Others to more embed

And cast their eyes deeper

Like Hubble or James Webb

Old sweaters, these old shoes

Old sweaters, these old shoes

From these tired steps, rise up

Unknowns to be unearthed 

The overflowing cup

Tragedies sinking hearts

And joy floating weightless

Balloons and wet cement

Incremental greatness

The melody has paused

The melody has paused

Begin the notes again

Caught between two moments

Like a level ocean

Begin the waves again

Has our world stopped spinning

Our needles falling out

From our underpinning 

Blue pool or blue ocean

Blue pool or blue ocean

Still equally as wet

Submerge has no distance 

It’s where east meets west

Beyond definition 

Thoughts all fender bender

Words flail, all else held in

Suspended surrender 

Two locked doors without knobs

Two locked doors without knobs

One floor and no ceiling

We are not rooted in

Crawling, howling, eeling

Some seeking solace up

Others see eye to eye

Others pickpocket souls

Others just simply try

Our apples are aging

Our apples are aging

Without forest or grove

Both parthenocarpy

A seedless treasure trove

Masculine nulliparous

Not actively Darwin

Our survival on Earth

Life fittest as Martian

Tantalizing today

Tantalizing today

Thoughts in future racing

Lines on a fishing reel

Quickly thrown, outpacing

Carbon carbonating

Nature, a nourishment

Arms waving, the check please!

The waiting firmament

They say it’s a long way

They say it’s a long way

Retrospectively no

Small tosses, smaller steps

That’s the way it is, so

Let nature seep in and

Absorb the scenery 

Life, a short picket fence

Grow out with greenery

White flags becoming red

White flags becoming red

There is fight still in me

Territories unsaid

Battlefield poetry

And should I lay wounded

Breath on a winter’s night

Scrolling like cursive script

Vapor in soft moonlight 

Answers in the landscape

Answers in the landscape

At the bases of trees

Or in upper branches

The slopes of hills, their ease

Or absence of uphill

Cloud cover, wide as sky

Or just something in air

That offers up the why

Modern and simplistic

Modern and simplistic

Reaching heights on plain wings

Water on lily pads 

Gravity, playground swings

Laws of nature and Joy

We’re not meant to just cope

Unaddressed envelopes 

Letters written with Hope

Fishing without a catch

Fishing without a catch 

Or the prankster who fails 

Denying reactions 

Lobster soup without tails

Argument avoided

Parking beside pylon

Tragedy averted 

Need to keep my eye on

Three hundred sixty-five

Three hundred sixty-five

Great opportunities

A mature Rumspringa 

Farmer’s impunities

A return to the spring

In search for clarity

Salmon run, honeycomb

Inkwell celerity