Running Dishes

He let me know this spooky
dress-up costume Mommy sent
is not for me and so we leave
it in his bag. After all,
I’m going as a poem
in spite of his advice:
poems are not scary!
I grin and scribble more.
Shine a light on family
secrets, spark irate debate
from friends and huffy sighs
from lovers. In between
we sing a little star that
twinkles. He ad libs
verses of the shiny moon-
friend, cows jumping and
a rebel spoon. Sparks
winking in innocuous
rhymes all the time.

Inspired by: Irate, Light, Innocuous, Spooky and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt dress.

Past The Program

Four ducks swim past the point,
hens intent exploring

newly exposed land. Teals guard
both entrances to the bay, dismiss

me in this perfect calm, the tranquil
sky filled to capacity–what will be

the tipping point to start the storm?
My friends and I discuss hunger and

how we misread our bodies’ cues after
so many decades of television programming

addiction to sugar. Wistful for a child-
hood we never experienced. What if

our mothers hadn’t been sold a magical
formula superior to her milk? We long

for sweetness in the corrupt society
fed by distorted lies. We doubt our

super powers; everyone else seems so
much more qualified, selling their

patented knowledge. In his perfect camo
feathered along the fall grasses, one

mallard watches, capturing my attention
while the others dive hidden from view.

Just so I sit, my old
woman façade obscuring our descent

into the true depths of being
where we find each other, sweet-

hearts bursting essence strong
beyond the flimsy stories of separation.

Inspired by: Hunger, Capacity, Wistful and Corrupt.

Quintessence

“We can not solve our problems with the same level of thinking that created them”
Albert Einstein

I no longer wish to improve,
tweak and fine-tune thinking.

Instead I show up graceless
and grass-less, a straight

newbie in the arising
consciousness. I’ve been house-

sitting though I’ll not own
another mortgage casket draining

every productive hour. Now
I pay to pray with trees

protected in parks or plea
private landowners to overlook

my dances in pristine gardens.
Each morning I dip into

the aether of our deep
connection, shyly cup

my hands into the flow
and pull up this dripping

mouthful. Sometimes I splash
my face. Sometimes I lick

each shattering droplet-
fractal of the spiraling

galaxies.  Leaking through
fingers into the page

of our intentions, we ink an
infinity loop of our hearts.

Inspired by: Wish, Improve, Newbie and Grass.