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