page 143

compassion and loving-kindness

are sweet on the outside,

but the sweetest if cultivated within;

all honey comes from a hive.

:::

observe closely:

what is shown is presented bare.

i approach as me

whose loved unrequited care.

checking eyes

but they want to rest.

hiding hands

but they want to hold.

loyal actions

but they want loyalty.

soft lips

but they want warmth.

steady heart

but it wants fervent desire.

this yearning appears small

but the feelings are full.

this is just the tip of the iceberg;

so much more of me---of my love

lie beneath the neck of the waves.

:::

what are these mental afflictions?

some part imperfection?

another part redirection?

some part intersection

of falsehoods and truthhoods?

where titans clash and sling their lightning bolts,

warring tirelessly against

the freedom of choice and theater of fate?

culminating as two single thoughts:

who will win the war?

how will we act?

:::

only have i painted the stars.

only have i painted the moon.

never have i been to space.

this is love, only as i know it.

:::

my thoughts tell me,

"The Metra train is not far away. The brown line is too secure...

too public. I don't think there's a fence by the Metra, or if there is,

it's easier to sneak in. Just pick a scheduled time a night and wait

on the side of the track until just the right moment."

i listen to my thoughts,

and their encouragement is convincing,

but not yet convincing enough...

i tell my thoughts, you are just thoughts.

you are not my legs.

you are not my feet.

you are not my lungs.

you are not my arms.

you are not my hands.

you are not my heart.

you are a fabric of woven clouds;

shapes with no form. no power.

you tell me the plan,

yet i create the action.

if i listen to woven clouds,

i will fly a kite through them.

i tell my thoughts, you are just thoughts.

:::

carousel, carousel,

you, old friend,

knew me too well.

cloaked in joyful tunes,

you, old friend,

know how to swoon.

distract, detract,

from a darker truth...

the spinning, the circling

a perceivably endless ride.

you, old friend,

are a place,

i must no longer confide.

:::

you were a grain of sugar

that dissolved on the warm skin of my heart.

emboldened with energy,

it was an awakening.

if only i knew...

this sweetness is strong

but abandons just as strongly.

:::

love, as we know it now,

is only as clear,

as we know it from our past.

:::

we are less intelligent

when we talk

and more intelligent

when we listen.

:::

Dawn, surprise me.

relinquish this guise.

fold out your hand

for a barter past due.

Dawn, reprise me.

realize me anew.

do take these feeble lies.

impart this this food blind

with a sight once seen

with truer eyes.

:::

i only know my lovers as sand;

each time i met them.

each time i kissed them.

each time i gave to them.

each time i covered them

in my waves...

i would dissolve within them.

recklessly, drunkenly, time and time

and time again.

i pulled back as mere salty foam

and stole whatever rocks and shells i could

to feel some sense of reciprocity.

where is the moon to take me away again?

i have learned to turn away from the shore.

i wait for a force that will shift me violently---

exciting my every droplet---

empowering me---

lifting me---

watching me rise to reach my inherent glory;

this lover will make me a tsunami.

:::

oh ma'am let me help you with that!

"Can you? Oh, thank you. I know its a hassle,

but I prefer the foods on the top shelves."

do you mind if i ask why?

"Oh no! I had a good friend tell me once

that the better products were placed

on the higher shelves because

they have better ingredients and are better quality---

but she also told me it was personal metaphor.

You see, finding a genuine friendship

is much like buying products off the top shelf...

it takes effort and takes some time,

but the reward lends your heart a fuller road.

My friend, she was taken from the very highest shelf."