you hear
tragedy
the burnt awful taste of it
ripples across oceans
to your living room
you sink

it's hard to think
to believe
in such devastation

hard to relate
to it, almost
hard to correlate
to put yourself in that place
to feel the brevity
the tang
of hurt and pain

and it catches you
when you least expect
casually laughing
til you're enveloped in a swell
of it
in the echoes of those
who ache

Once upon a time there was a horse named Pegasus. He didn’t really have wings, so he couldn’t fly, but he made some wings for himself out of cardboard and glued them on. After all, he didn’t want people to know that he couldn’t fly. One day the King called for Pegasus to come before him and he said,
“Oh most wonderful and heroic horse, my daughter the princess has been kidnapped, and I need someone to rescue her.”
Pegasus was extremely proud that the king had thought to ask him to rescue the princess, so he said

they sow

tryst, fight their woes with burgundy
bleach their teeth in lies
romanticize their plight
and fantasize in yellow

hyacinths, basking under an indifferent sun
beached on a grassy knoll
the sun will take its toll
while the pull of the promise precedes

this, an isolated chastised moment
a finger wagging sharp
between two eyebrows barred
and scarred, from raising at another

The wind shakes the firs
Like a raging river,
Roaring.

A breeze catches the chimes
striking metal against stone
Singing.

Lenticular cotton drawn off the mountain
Floats over golden sunbeams on glassy water
Glistening.

Gusts catch the wings
of eagles in the heavens,
Soaring.

Patters on the roof from a drizzly grey sky
Fragrance of rain and wood-stove ember
Mingling

In the hollow of the firs an owl calls
while Ursa Major prowls among wisps of cloud
Shining.

Verse 1

I was dreaming of a land

to which I found a boat to sail away

You were there

The sea was grand, you held my hand

I sat up front and closed my eyes and felt

Wind in my hair

And you were there

And I was hoping for a smile

that set much later than the sinking sun

Not a care

And I’d have stood there for awhile

you looked so lovely in that golden light

No worse for wear

And you were there

So I said…

Chorus

Would you meet me on

Like a tiny spring
From an everlasting River
Lord let me be
A gift for the Giver
So little You've asked
I've failed so much
My face unmasked
By Your lawful touch
I've stumbled so often
Complained with disgruntle
Yet You my heart softened
Won over my struggle
Please empty this spring
Sweet merciful River
Let joy now careen
As a gift for the Giver

1: Radiance

He looked onto the girl with reverent eyes
And upon his face was slapped surprise.
Her hair bound ‘round her in rolling cadence
And harmony with her smile of radiance.

2: Laughter

He listened unto the girl with pleasure plain
As she giggled like a brook after playful rain.
None could look anywhere but at her
With the song of her soulful laughter.

3: Embrace

What does it feel like
to grow up
I say
what does it feel like
to grow
What does it feel like
to call your brother on the phone
and talk about life
and somehow just know
that's what it'll feel like
when we're all moved and grown
and I'll remember what it felt like
those many years ago.

It's a simple taste
this adulthood
a silver spoon
exciting
There are things you can take
and things you can leave
friends you embrace
and ones you don't need
and still keep.

This is the last of the story. Enjoy!

Chapter seven
INDIANS!

Inquiry is the heartbeat of dialogue. A monologue answers, while a dialogue asks. A monologue is as narrow as the mind, but a dialogue reaches as far as infinity, or the square root of two.