smoke

there's a world in my mind

that doesn't exist ;

the fear of some things

in the fuel of a fired-down kiss.

the too long away from

six other faces too alive

to be recognized,

as my particular paranoia

stares back at me from the mirror.

the fire's not burning but

killing smoke stings my eyes

as I look for you -

your names though

escape me.

my eyes tell me that

your beauty lies in the soil

of my fingertip rescue search -

not a line of life in the world

that begins in smoke.

monster

if, in blind judgment
I find you lacking
just keep talking
please, keep talking,
paranoia makes monsters of us all.

if, in your hearing
of my overconfident self-appraisal
you should think me wrong,
then shut me up
do it quickly, for a monster ever have I been.

if I, in manic schizophrenic delusion,
should tell you the world is flat,
close my eyes
lull me to sleep
take me to the moon
and point to your world -
maybe I'll understand.

if, finally, I lose myself,
be kind to me
for it's not a monster
but a healer
I've forever wanted to be.


14 September 1995

stars

a walk up the lane
after the campfire and love all around
stepping softly so as not to stumble
so very dark, or so I thought until
I looked up and saw something amazing -
a carpet of brilliance above my head,
stars uncountable,
so many stars, and the Milky Way
so fiery, so overpowering, so close that I was sure
I could reach up and touch them.


I stood in the midst of that fire
only able to say, as my heart
felt full to bursting and ever so small,
"God. Oh dear God,"
as He showed me His World, His Power,
His Majesty and His Mystery.
I could only finally lower my eyes,
humbled and thankful for this peek at His House,
this gift and the reminder that I am,
that we all are
His children.