Chains of childhood could set us free

Eyelids dropped like curtains, and so it began.

The world was beautiful and old, but everything was new to us.

It was a book whose spine was broken

Because we’d opened it so many times.

And our illiterate minds didn’t stop us from writing every story

just to find it scribed in the pages of all our adventures so long passed.

Bare feet upon barren earth,

We hadn’t learned that worms were dirty

So we let them dance through our fingers,

Sewing tales that were older than the trees.

We were free from the roots that anchored our elders like alders—

Tumbleweeds in desert storms, we rode like cowboys

and hid like Indian summers.

We took three steps back, drew pistols, and fired.

Bang! Drop dead tired in the grass, drew long breaths,

and drew anything the clouds could grow into.

I hid and you sought out

every secret I’d ever buried with army men

in my backyard. You said you could be the cop

and lock up all of my fears. I told you I’d be the robber

who stole you away from everything

that tried to make lost kids found.

They were they days when we could sit at a table for hours

and pretend anything into being. Reality was childish

but our Imaginations were wildly true.

Those days when rainbows were our favorite color

Because Martin’s movement seemed silly

and klans of panthers seemed impossible.

When the rules of physics did not apply

And even if they did, we they didn’t weigh us down.

But now they have, and I miss the days when we were young.

This blog

I could fill a thousand journals trying to catch a single snapshot

But the pictures are all too small, and my photography is no better than my writing

Marriage

You have to fight a lot of people before you finally meet your match

Dragonry

Pipe lit, embers glowing—I am a dragon

But I never cared much for treasure or slaughter, so maybe I’d just rather be a writer of old.

They were wise, possessing secrets of generations.

They knew what it was to see the world from far above.

They are calloused and secluded,

need no companionship but the tales of an age long past and the understanding that future will bring about little change but their death.

Come to think of it, maybe I wanted to be a dragon all along.

Magic Is Sharp

There’s a banshee in my brain

     That screams out every crime

     I never got caught for

I’d tell it to be quiet,

     That its lies are but the conjurings of a witch

But I’m the wizard here, and the worst part is, I know I’m guilty