Just One Sec

Do you think you could free me from the man I’ve been?

Do you see me now or do you see me then?

Could you clear my cache, momentarily?

For just one sec, free me from me.

Free me from your limiting ideas of me,

free me from the version you prefer I’d be,

when you grew tall, and I fell short.

Drop injunctions, and clear the court.

Forgive the debt that I've accrued.

For just one sec, free me from you.

I free you from the person I was sure I knew,

I free you from a reputation you outgrew,

I free you from behavior I expect to see,

and my interpretation of history,

‘Cause I boxed you in unconsciously,

and I saw you as I thought you ought to be,

but by loving you imperfectly,

for just one sec, I free you from me.

Volunteer

Traveling on the wind

carrying credentials,

abandoning anything

strangling potential,

Galloping, inhabiting

nothing inessential,

scattering, wondering,

“Am I incidental?”

Sprout here another year, volunteer.

Scavenging, salvaging,

rationing for winter.

It’s challenging, practicing

living like beginners,

But it’s happening, it’s dazzling,

protections start to splinter,

imagining ravishing

springing from within her.

Sprout here another year, volunteer.

It Is What It Is

This is the first day the flowers wilt and fold.

Nothing reverses, aridity takes hold.

The call coulda been answered,

the wall woulda been questioned,

the fall shoulda been prevented,

But it is what it is.

This is the first day our friend is free from pain,

voyaging on, while the rest of us remain.

The call coulda been answered,

the wall woulda been questioned,

the fall shoulda been prevented,

But it is what it is.

Green to Gold

So, summer’s on the outs,

cicadas swim around the house,

crickets clicking down the block,

we are on an early morning walk.

No one’s up, and no cars on the street,

hiding from an unrelenting heat,

sun is climbing out from underneath,

lighting up and roasting tired leaves.

Green to gold, going green to gold.

A breeze blew in, and Autumn came to town,

branches bare, the leaves rest on the ground.

All that summer worked to bud and bloom,

only to be swept up by a broom.

An uninvited frost formed overnight,

by early afternoon, we’re losing light,

now they’re saying two, three feet of snow,

the reading dips to ten degrees below.

Morning’s bright, the ancient ice withdraws,

I take one step and the ground begins to thaw,

tiny grasses spring up ‘round my shoe,

eager bits of green start peeking through.

Seedlings turn to chutes and shoot up high,

thunderclouds hold hostage summer sky,

concrete’s hot with fire it can’t contain,

we sit in front of fans and wait for rain.

And just like that, summer’s on the outs,

cicadas swim around the house,

crickets clicking down the block,

while we are on an early morning walk.

Green to gold, going green to gold.

Porchlight

Anesthesia,

out in the dark, walking through fog,

trying to retrace my steps to God,

shining my light, but my light looks odd,

like it’s walling me in, and I’m thinking,

“If ever untethered, I know you’ll know.”

Synesthesia,

color connects with your wires crossed,

keep me from vanishing at any cost.

Flip on the porchlight if you sense I’m lost,

and we’ll find a way back together.

If ever untethered, I know you’ll know.

Karuna

I’m disassembling piece by piece...

deteriorating, decayed, decreased.

If you’re here, retrieve me.

They checked my flesh,

they checked my heart,

they can’t detect my faulty parts.

But they say you’ll heal me...

...can you heal me?

I plug my ear, bash my fist.

I need some proof that you exist,

that you can reach me.

Can you reach me

now that you bent the bars of the cage,

scraping skin, draining age,

out of view, out of range,

out where no hope remains?

I need your name, Karuna...

New York

When my nerve wore down,

I was assailed by simple little sounds:

hammer clangs, sirens in the park,

like I never heard New York.

Blaring brakes, trapped trucks

honking horns, hissing buses stuck,

shrieking trains barreling berserk,

like I never heard New York.

When the room grew loud,

I learned to stand in back, behind the crowd,

dam canals with cork,

like I never heard New York.

But when the walls gave way,

I had to flee, I had to back away

as the whole town barked,

like I never heard New York.

Gone Beyond

I’m listening for you, Silence,

but god, there’s so much noise.

And now I fear I’ve found you,

you’re partially destroyed.

I echo in your absence,

voiceless as a swan.

I want you to hear what I hear,

This sound that I found

to replace you while you were gone,

gone beyond...

With folded legs you hold me,

and smiling, calmly mime,

“You worry nothing’s happening,

you’re happening all the time!

So shaken by these changes,

but trying to waltz along...

I want you to hear what I hear:

A tempo, ticking away, beating bygone,

gone beyond...”