In my secret heart
Walled in by past
I stand at the precipice
Of every beautiful fear
Peering over at the darkness
And it looks back at me

People passing like smoke
their reflections in the glass
their ruddy faces locked away
in small
intricately carved wooden boxes
that make a sweet music
when opened.

Their bodies, which will decay
and become clean dust,
these also a sweet music make.

Watching
Listening
I breathe the bones,
lungs,
and thoughts of my ancestors
moving with this wind.

Whether carried and strewn like
October's leaves
or as if the wind itself
is the breath that these ghosts leave
in their passing.
The science texts do not say.
The stars,
hard and distant,
offer no help.

I wish the mind was as self-healing as the **body

I am a lost soul... so very lost.
falling through the floor boards
slipping through the cracks
through the gap under the door
I silently pass and out into the world
where I float upon the breeze
like a thousand dandelions clocks
with no place to land
and I need you to hold me
to tie me to your hand
to tell me I am here
for I can't see where I am
silent me
invisible me
please paint me yellow
let me have colour in your world
let me have colour
cover me in gossamer
and I will become
and my outline be defined
let me be real to your eyes
let our fingers intertwine
take me home
colour me yellow
show me I am true
and I am yours

And now that you're dating someone else
I suddenly understand you:
Things that you did, words that you said,
Even when I withstand you,

I took you for granted, but from the first,
You always respected me.
You bothered almost everyone else,
But you knew when to stop with me.

You've always believed in me
I'm not sure how I deserve it;
Between us, I think now we're closer,
And I will strive to preserve it.

And as for wishing that you were with me,
I think I can leave that behind;
Probably friends is all we will ever be,
And right now, I don't really mind.

The Sunday paper comes twirling out of a passenger window
Stealthy Deer are watching my Snow Peas with binoculars from a distant terrace
New Hampshire hens announce their morning eggs , Yorkshire piglets attempt to awaken , roll over instead
The Christians are off to early service , the agnostics are
working on their lawn tractors , the atheist are glued to
Good Morning America and the farmers and I have already been
up four hours