Metamorphosis
How does a caterpillar become a butterfly.
How does it feel inside the chrysalis.
Is it aware of anything changing.
When does it become aware again.
How does it wait so patiently
to dry off its wings, and fly.
Does it have any memory
of when it could only crawl.
How long does it think it will be,
before it is something else.
How did every molecule of its beautiful
wings know exactly what color
to choose.
She said––
bowling balls keep falling out of your ears and
I want you to be careful because
I don’t want to break my stilettos.
She said––
your knee caps are schools of fish
that sometimes take off in different directions
and if you don’t get better climbing the stairway
I can’t let you visit anymore.
She said––
you are an apple, but I’m the tree,
so don’t ever hurt me, because
you’ll only be hurting yourself.
She said––
you are a spaceman and the only grounding you have
is the dust on the bottom of your space boots,
and that’s o.k. but why can’t you have more gravity,
when you look at the stars in my eyes.
In my lungs
a tree of black crows
flying into the winter sky.
Their death caw echoes
off the frozen ground.
I am in the red chair
in the bird room.
Time has quit
existing.
now and then I crumble into the sea and dissolve
and there’s nothing left of me. all my particles and particulars blown apart like
little grains of salt in the ocean.
what a relief it must be when I am floating so free. . .
inside the rolling waves.
before I re-assemble
and then eventually begin to tremble
thinking I’m someone,
and only me.
I drift like waves trying to climb stairs.
I float on the ocean in a boat with no name,
get tossed in the hurricane.
from an airplane you can see me, just a dot
down below, floating in circles to and fro,
either running away or trying to go home.
adrift in eternity on the endless sea.
wherever it comes from, wherever it goes,
seems you have to lose everything,
or how do you know.
I jump from a skyscaper into the ocean
dive down into the deep blue sea
where the fish are colorful and lively
and everything is quiet and serene
gentle rhythm of wavy drifting
as the anemonies and other things dance
and ripples on the floor of the ocean
like small imitations of the waves above.
swimming with the whales they are
so giant and strong and graceful
lazy lolling and calling in their eerie songs
moving here and there maybe going somewhere
maybe just moving around and now and then
back to the surface for some
air and back down down deep
where pressure builds and light gets thin
then back up again sometimes leaping
up through the surface almost completely
out of the water like flying for
a second or two before
diving back in and eating more plankton . . .
big whales so graceful like ballerinas
in smooth slow motion moving faster
than you can imagine or dream.
Wish
We lay on the ground and stretch our arms wide
and pretend we are airplanes––
someday we’ll fly away
up up into the happiness clouds
up where it’s fluffy and funny and free
with lots of oxygen and plenty of room
and hapiness for miles
everywhere you look
we will barely remember where we came from
or remember as much as we want
but only with amusement and pleasure and
gratitude and it will look like
a landscape tapestry where every
piece every thread every dot was
perfect and exactly where
it was meant to be
and we will fly to the stars
and swirl with the galaxies
and dance the cosmic dance
of love only love
Icarus falling
What could he carve out of words
that would make any sense of it now.
When Icarus fell, and walked, broken,
back to the village–what
could he say.
The villagers were afraid of him,
couldn’t believe him,
turned away.
How could he describe flying
up towards the sun,
his wings melting,
he’d forgotten all warnings,
he couldn’t stop,
until he was
falling.
How could he explain how it feels here,
what pictures does he have,
except the white hot flower in the sky
inviting him.
when you were looking they didn’t see what they saw that way then
you know how the horse race goes in circles don’t ya?
but there’s always one that gets there first
and one that gets there last
and which is which
that’s real hard to tell sometimes
because like a million years from now
it might look different
if it’s all the same moment
anyway
