i try, but i can't fix everything 

i keep having to remind myself i am not the mother.
the baby chickens decide to run away from home
and one ends up getting hit, well i can't do much,
i am not his mother. i can go home and cry while
i perform a burial ritual, but i am not the mother.
i didn't let this happen. the trees that surround me,
they grow ill. the leaves don't ever grow, the
branches seem weak, they break with the smallest
amount of movement. i can get sad at this sight
but i need to remember i am not that tree's mother.
i can't help it from dying or becoming more sick.
i just go home and do a tree dance, hoping the
sickness away. i see dried up rivers in the woods,
but again i am not their mother. i didn't tell them
to stop drinking the water from mother earth. i
didn't make them stop. they stopped themselves
the rivers weren't thirsty anymore for that rain.
i just walk home thinking, i am not the river's
mother, i can't make the river drink the rain
water if it does not want to. i just sit still as a
bee on a sunny dawn morning and blink.
i can't help, i am not the mother of these
broken souls, whom decide to starve.

we can meet where the green grass grows.

the evening air, is so crisp and so delicate.

we can meet under the old pear tree.

where we can dance and sing together.

we can hold hands like the night will

never end. your hands, smooth like

silk, your hands tell me you've been

here long. the evening with slowly

turn a shade darker than Jupiter and

our wine glasses will be full. we 

can pick the flowers together, run 

in our bare feet. we are the only 

two who exist. we can swim in the

river, no clothes, just you and i. 

together our feet touch the bottom

while our legs intertwine, like roots

and like vines. our heads bob above 

the glass like river. the pink moon 

shines just enough to be able to see 

your green eyes. baby lightening 

bugs gather round, just to see us

humans kiss in the pink moon 

river. 

i need a dream journal

i keep having the weirdest dreams.
i had a dream, where the sky was black
and nothing made sense. everyone was sad.
my sister got married and had a kid, that's
what a fairy told me in last night's dream.
i had a dream where my tooth fell out.
not eating almonds or an apple, my tooth
just fell out. i keep having these dreams
where i can't breathe until i wake up.
sometimes i can't explain what i see.
i keep having the strangest dreams.

dark, like the night.

Rosary Beads hover above my bed one morning.

I can see the sun, the golden peach, almost half

Way over the hill, far, far away. The rolling hills

Hug the sun, it takes only minutes to appear.

Outside, the sidewalk screams. The black crow

Follows the midnight moon. Only for one very

Little moment, does this feel right. I sit and pray

Asking for these beads to save me before sunrise.

The White Blinds.

To you, life is but a joke. To me, life is but a dream.

Try to succeed, make your mother happy.

Don’t be a lump, shut up and grab a Q-tip.

Bring all the animal bones from your backyard.

I know you collect them, you wear the bear’s teeth,

Around your neck, on a rope. Coffee brings

Memories of my Papa and front porch swings.

The smell of cigarettes and hummingbirds.

Tomorrow seems so far away, but don’t wish

Your days away. Before you know it,

You’ll be dead, and earthworms will crawl

Through your skull.

back pocket poem

Leave me where the angels cry.

Maybe they can heal my wounds.

Shoot high, higher than the sky sits.

Leave me where the angels cry.

Maybe they can heal my wounds.

Shoot high, higher than the sky sits.

Something big like the City.

Bends and breaks but I’m still here.

A new start, born again between

Sundown and sunrise. Bring the drums

Closer, get in line. Check your tie.

The moon will sink before we dance

Upon the frozen lake, feel it deep.

The way you bleed out, the way

Your teeth speak your words.

We don’t know if you are there.

My army is behind me, holding my

Head up high. Higher than angels

Can fly. You can’t see me, I’m

That high. Years have passed before

Us and I haven’t seen you.

The streets speak to us, they hold us.

Hold us tight, from fear, from truth,

From my army of beautiful men

And women. The smell is just of

A morning sunrise with flowers

Blooming and grass growing

Right between our eyes.

The two eyes that saw a God

And didn’t know what to do.

The doors are always open,

Don’t feel left out. God is here

For all of you. Start praying,

Up late is when he might hear

you.