homesick

travels

miles in a lifetime

upon miles in a day or week or dream

finding lost bits of memory 

sandwiched between 

this face, that body, a smell

making for a broken thread 

was there clarity

in that picture

    where to go

    who had the key

    how to make it work 

 better

or nostalgia in the smallest 

action

    fingers swiftly weaving 

    sounds of crashing, clanging 

    pot holes dug

 curiosity

constantly homesick for a feeling

unattached

bobble heads 

unhinged

inside that image

Answers

In a question

you unveil the baggage

of your past.

Slipping into 

former selves

lives caste in shadow

Why. Do. You - Think.

That?

In a question  you

arrive at danger

you pilgrim forward

seeking new incarnations

changing your senses.

In a question

you deliver

present concentration

contemplating

the whole

of what is

in front of you.

In a question you answer

your past

your present

your future

you.

Michael

It has been a scary long time since I wrote a poem. I am not entirely sure if it is the brain drain of summer or a fixation on french fashion, moving furniture around in my house, or a need to turn off in anticipation for the next school year. 

But yesterday I found myself smelling images.

Michael 

days slip through my fingers

droplets of sand 

wearing castles

i woke

discovering grey and lines and creaking bones

that yellow house is brown 

the foundation raising with each bellow

trees are tall, tall

and grass crunches 

while I whirl

blow a bubble

and snatch a star

making music is different now

walking softly

yelling at things that cross our paths, quickly

melodies web across the continent

connecting to a million and one

hold your hands, open 

breathe, be love, begin

catch that hour

build