I wish people knew that God doesn’t come to me and demand my focus, the idea of spiritual change is disheartening and difficult, and my heart sometimes thinks itself more religious than my brain.
I wish for faith like the poor wish for coin and the hungry for grain.
I wish they knew nothing is promised and we sweep each other to the side, and we write to fill the spaces left in the streets, and that poetry sits at the dining table with influence and insolence and images of what we see and what we wish to see.
I saw Christmas lights from
My plane tonight,
Aisle 4, window D,
Switch backing from green
to blue,
red to white,
Flying from bright light
To bright light.
From up here,
Street lights look like foot steps,
Up one side and
Down the second–
Evenly spaced like a
Slow moving neighbor
Takin’ his time on a
Saturday afternoon.
Next time I’ll take acid first.
The flight will be more interesting
And blinking lights
Will make the world
Spin a bit faster.
Santa has to land somehow–
But not before a trip to
Birmingham
Prague
Moscow
Denver
Seattle
Los Angeles
New York
Las Vegas
My livingroom
Prison
Court
Six feet under.
I hear the city lights are
Stunning this time of year.
I’ve figured that since I’ve FINALLY figured out what I want to do for my first poetry collection, I will let the year long challenge slide. I’ll be working on my project from here on forth, and posting the occasional poem when I need to decompress.
I won’t give it away, but this collection will be a five part series on the large topics of perception and reality.
I wrote four poems today
More than I’ve written in weeks.
It felt good.
It felt worthy.
It felt like I didn’t waste 6 hours of my morning watching television,
It felt like I built a mountain in seconds,