from this
vantage point
the world is
smaller than
we previously
thought, birds fly
alongside us,
cars that roared
before are
silenced,
we swim
in a sea of blue, 
a view that 
sharpens what
we already knew;
that this world is
beautiful,
a feeling that if
bottled
would be taken
in the traffic
jams & hospitals
& we would
see the Earth as a
speck of dust
floating
through a
Galaxy
much bigger
than us

if a forensic
          scientist
fresh from
a crime scene
          were to
investigate
our woods
         & forests
would they
find blood
spattered
         patterns  
scattered over
chestnut trees
in deepest
      Mississippi,
a crimson
            history,
years of
          brutal toil
embedded in
the soil,
where children
played only
             the day
before,
perhaps if we
      all could see
we might tread
a little differently,
         investigate
our own hearts
meticulously

You peel
back the
        skin
& we are
the same,
hearts
     beating
beneath flesh,
       organs
translucent
as scaly fish
beneath the
        surface
of a lake,
life clearer
now judged
by the
weight of
        a soul,
almond
shaped versus
deep bowl
too heavy
          to hold,
things obscure
before stand
        clear as
stars pressed
         against
the night sky,
as your red
twisted veins
hand
in hand with
           mine.

Overnight
    a storm
has moved
 into this city,
phone wires
      dangle
precariously,
houses are
defenceless
     against
sea, held
together with
bits of wood
& string like
our fragile
bodies,
covered only
by a thin
layer of skin,
        pushed
to survive by
forces outside,
to reconnect
       with the
wild, not
       found in
books but
hearts, bones,
blood,
  biological
   instincts we
once
  understood.

Ahead of
     this present
moment is a
void, no
        name, no
detail
beyond what
our
imaginations
    can impose, its
    bedrock not
made
of stone but
       sand, if it
were a
wood we would
           warn
children to
   avoid it, yet we
follow its fire, it's
        flames reaching
higher
     & higher,
        seducing us with
their power,
       all the things
that might be,
         glittering
then
  disappearing

There is a world
beyond the
one
seen on
television screens,
outside the realm
of suicides &
wall to wall 
crimes
where
flocks of
birds are migrating
South in search
of sun &
deer run
across forests
not yet discovered
by anyone  
& though I may
not see it daily it is
this distant world
that saves
me.

Determined
          to leave
she gathered
up her
things, keys
& a coat, a
quick note
    explaining
why she had
          to go,
but the 
finality of the
scene gave
       the bleak
view a
different hue,
         the sun
through
glass shone
brighter, the
               sky
appeared
several
        shades
lighter, the
once
      silent
      meadows
called out in
       unison
to be walked
           upon,
the
    flowers
whispered
   to her to
        hold on.

With a
thin sheet
of skin we cover
each limb,
bury
the heart
beneath flesh
& hope for
the best,
but the cracks
still come, air finding
its way in via
eardrums,
lungs, 
then finally
a soul & you know
when you see
them, more
paper
than
people, you
look in their eyes
& don't see hopes
& dreams but
city streets,
industrial
skylines,
no sign of sun
coming over the
horizon.

I exist in a
modern
       fortress
of houses &
    cars, stores
around the
corner to buy
      anything
I want &
       the sea
& dark trees
remain
mysteries,
   peripheral
things only
    experienced
in
           dreams
passing
     ships that
sail in to
erase names
& obligations,
      stretch weak
             lungs to
breaking,
reprogramming
genes to flee, 
to tease out the 
         wild seed
    from my
ancestors tree
& in the absence
of jungle
     ignite a fire
from
bits of wire,
     from you
& me
& our ancient
      heartbeat

andy comes in campbell cans
tomato soup black, white, and red
squeezed out pop until it bled
art is all in andy's head

andy do you dare to dream
pinks and yellows, blues and greens
the day you popped onto the scene
do you know just what i mean

marilyn's golden in her day
elvis skates in figure eight's
64 the riot race
moon museum from outer space

andy smokes the cigarettes
andy crosses his long legs
yellow hair on top his head
is your 15 minutes up my friend

andy's made it all so clear
andy drew so we could hear
it has been too many years
andy can you paint my tears