PIGEONS
Did you know that pigeons were domesticated,
And employed as messengers in war?
Does this mean that they are veterans?
Is this why they wander city streets, 
Searching aimlessly for a bite to eat
And a safe space to sleep?
Is this why we don't look at them directly-
Let them tip-toe by in the corner of our eye
Without nodding, "Hi," or offering a smile? 
Is this why we call them, "pests,"
Mark another problem to fix
On our City Council's agenda,
Pat ourselves on the back for acknowledging
Without addressing... Do they know they won the war?
Did they forget? Were they ever told? 
Or... have they traded someone else's fight
For a battle of their own?

CONSTELLATION
I remember lying on our backs on the dock
In the cold, dewy middle of the night...
We stared up at the sky
And it was so clear, that we could see it all-
The Milky Way Galaxy,
More stars than darkness...
She traced constellations with her
Little finger, and I thought, 
"How fitting, that we should be so small."
I've heard that stars can die long before
Their light ever reaches our eyes.
But what if space is looking back,
And despite the death,
It too, sees more light than dark?

CLAY
I want to be strong like clay,
To adapt to any space,
And softly remold my shape...

I want to be strong like water,
To channel around obstructions,
And swiftly switch directions...

I want to be strong like wind, 
To be able to whisper and to howl,
And change seasons with the weather...

But, may I never be strong like plastic,
Like timber, or like steel...
May I never be so unyielding that
If I bow, I break.

PALM
We used to trace the creases on our palms
And pretend that we could see the future-
We'd prophesize marriages and many children
... The images of lives long-lived. 
Now, I look at my hands and I see callouses
And scars healed thick.
I think of all they've built and broken
And the future feels so undetermined...
But, I find my life line
Where it's always been-
Definitively marked and long.
For a moment, I suspend belief to think,
"My life will be so rich."

TO BE- IN TITLE
Is a writer still a writer
Once they fail to write a word?

Is a dancer still a dancer
If they develop two left feet?

Is a painter a painter after
Their creative vision dissipates?

Is a musician still that...
If they go deaf? 

Must we actively practice a craft
To wear its title? 

Or... do we bear the title out
Of interest,
And own it forever? 

RADIO
I kept adjusting all the dials,
But all I received was radio silence-
I tried shifting a little to the left,
Adjusting antennas, changing tones, 
But they never tuned in...
And, maybe I was out of range?
Maybe, I was trying to connect with
The incorrect station? Maybe,
They weren't even singing in my language,
Or playing instruments at all.
Maybe, it was just some boring podcast
Droning on about subjects I don't care about
... They say that what you don't know
Can't hurt you...
But, I think that the most devastating song
Is the one I'll never hear, but dream about,
As I sit alone in silence. 

KEY LEFT IN THE LOCKBOX
I have developed a superior skill of
Enduring the most unpleasant smells...
As a housecleaner, I would have to pour out
Gallon jugs of lukewarm milk,
Chisel calcified butter up from
Burnt countertops, manage
The bathrooms of dementia patients-
And, patience is not a virtue, but a gift-
Scrub brush in hand,
I'd offer my most sincere understanding 
To the most rank predicaments...
To the clients too ashamed to show their faces
... hidden behind keys left in a lockbox
And pen-scribbled names...
They were brave to ask for help.
And, despite the sacrifice of my nostrils,
I was honored to be the one
To give them back their house. 

TIRED
Some mornings, my body wakes up
Before my mind does...
My legs leap up from bed on impulse,
My arms dress themselves
Through muscle memory,
My feet walk to work by way of habit,
And my hands punch in 
With brain-dead intention...
These are the days in which I'm
Too tired for critical thinking...
But, what's most concerning is never 
That a body left a brain;
It's learning that people liked me better
When I left my opinions at home. 

DISTRESS
In distress, we undress-
Peel off layers of pleasant facades,
Shed coping skills like winter coats,
Out of season and overheating...
We shake off smiles like outgrown frames.
And after the panic,
We're left feeling naked...
Standing bare, for all to see:

Our beautifully ugly, awkward humanity. 

IN CONFIDENCE 
My best friend's been a writing machine-
Clacks out lines of prose and frank poetry.
A typewriter will listen,
No matter how dismal,
And groundskeep the graveyard of your grief. 

PEACE
We can't save kind-hearted souls
From knowing the hand of cruelty, or
Promise that those in the right
Will never face injustice. No matter 
How hard we work, our pockets
Will one day be empty... But, does this mean
That we should forfeit hope and wallow
In the misery?
No-
We'll remember all the good days and
Let them carry us through the bad.
We'll envision dreams of daylight
Which will guide us through the dark.
We will rest assured that evil will always
Meet with love, and know that
Every war will end, 
To bring a time of peace. 

WRITE
I write to purge my brain of all the thoughts
That plague me- memories collect in the
Recesses that hurt the most, and I
Accumulate so many thoughts, they
Start to overflow. Then, people notice
I'm not smiling as often as I used to...
They doubt themselves and think I
Didn't laugh because I don't find
Them amusing... They can't see how I've
Misplaced my joy beneath many mountains
Made of mole hills... They can't see how
My rage spills out because I've no storage
Left to hold it. I'll dish out "sorry"s for
"Good morning"s and hand out jabs instead
Of shaking hands... Until, I find the time
To sit and write,
And make sense of things again. 

THE FROG
There once was a frog who would meet his
Frog friends at the pond in the moonlight
For choir practice.
They'd sing all the classics with
A croak in their hearts... Until one day,
The frog bellowed a sound that was new.
His friends couldn't fathom why
He'd change up their song; they thought,
The way it had been was
The way it should stay.
But, he liked how this new note
    rollllllled 
Off his tongue...
So, he sang it much louder,
Until all his friends left.
Then, just as the frog thought that
He'd really messed up...
A toad joined his side, and said,
He liked how he thought!
The two carried on through the glow 
Of the night, sharing new tunes
With a croak in their hearts. 

AIR CONDITIONING
Air conditioning is such a wonderful
Invention. It keeps our cool when
The temperature's rising, when our
Boiling point is on the horizon-
Equalizing an equator is no trivial feat,
But the A/C stays chill with a hum
In its breeze... Funny thing about
External regulation is, we're never
Aware of how much we need...
Until the air conditioning breaks,
And we
Promptly
Overheat.

BREAKDOWN
When your vehicle stutters and
Breaks down in the middle of a long stretch,
Do you remain calm?
Do you know who you will call for help?
Or, do you break down as well, blow smoke
And stall, have to pull over on the side
Of the road to let off steam... Cause a
Scene and make repairs more difficult 
Than they need to be? What if you
Gave it a rest- Call it an unplanned 
Pit stop- declare it a scenic detour and
Set a picnic- What if you knew that 
Machines were built to break and be repaired,
And that even winding roads can lead
You to your destination?

WIND
Sitting with a cypress by the pond,
The wind finds me as it rustles
Through the Spanish moss and
Ripples over water. 
It whispers that it knows a ghost
Who is braver than I am,
That it's surpassed mountains that
Sit higher than I will ever stand.
It boasts about an old oak tree 
That's lived more tales than I
Will ever know...
Then, I stretch out my arms and hands
And let the wind pass through,
To carry on its search for someone
To knock down. 

SUNSHINE
A star is born of darkness, collapsing beneath
Its gravity in dust until it shines.
The collateral impact creates new worlds,
Forging mountains and many moons...

And we, too, are born of darkness,
And then bathe in light. We crumble in the
Nighttime, and then we rise and shine.
We impact worlds we cannot see,
Move mountains unintentionally-
We are powered by nuclear force forged from 
Explosive stardust sure enough to burn...
Soft enough to blanket all
Within our orbit in life-sustaining warmth.

And, shouldn't it be a point of pride that
Our light can't be dimmed when it ignites
From inside? 

So, Sun, shine. 

FREE

I was lost in a fishbowl,

But little did I know;

I was never much for swimming because

It wasn’t fins I wore, but wings.

I had no need to fear

Any drowning, choking fate-

It was in the weeds, I learned to sing,

And of sound mind, I flew away.

Now, every day is something new

As I am flying free…

A bird is meant to see it all:

The sky, the earth, and the sea.