Come follow me into the wooded hills
Away from all the jargon, nonsense, noise
And re-use old forgotten paths with me
Past beer cans, past junk food wrappers, past gum,
Past dead cigarette butts that could have sparked
A fire here where lightning needs no help:
The forest outskirts are dry—dry as sex Continue reading
My memory tends a garden plot,
But somehow sunflowers fail to grow.
The rose, of course, is everywhere: Continue reading
I captured lightning after years
Of trying—pulled the trigger when
Nothing was in my sight but fears:
The wandering fear suspended in black night,
The fear of women, fear of men,
The fear of failure, fear that fate
Had wanted clockwise circles then
When I instead passed right.
So I in darkness hoped the gate
Of gods retired from careers
Of rage would not unlock too late.
They turned the key—gave me this light.