wishing for a treehouse

I, alone, am on this branch

thin, wispy, it may snap

I grapple with a twig; it laughs at my humanness.

Beneath my legs lies a heartfelt song, someone's first fruit bowl painting, 
tedious words...

I question  the wavering branches 

Emerged into the world, a fish with no gills
I seek out thrills, frills, gorgeous stills

The trees share answers with each other that I do not understand

A leather purse signifies one woman's existence as her credit card
is declined
A child calls for his mother three times
she, aggravated, answers him after posting his picture on Facebook

I have so much love for the trees - I am in the forest now and 
the trees speak with me. I am patient, still
I trust in the tree and its lanky branch grows stronger

Under my light, swaying legs, 
the melody is more distinct, the canvas more vivid,
words come easily

Below me the disarray of the crowd fades. I am not a part of it. 

I don't want you to be happy

A tack in my heart
I'd rather use it for my bulletin board
but it's stuck

Be happy
that's what i want
but it's not
I'm on fire

I didn't let you in
I'm closed in, under a shed, down under the dark, murky, cold earth,
giving you all of my breath except the one ounce
I need to stay barely alive

I am a person who floats, having given away her soul, I look
outside the window at the trees, write about beauty, focus deeply
on color, strive to erase the dark

I hold up pretty pictures
for you all to see, a small glimpse of me

The tack in my heart grips me -
I imagine it falls out fast like a petal from a flower girl's basket
It does not.

I  stay busy: write about a tea party, a green pasture,
a quote that inspires me, a couple growing beautifully old,
musings about gravity, creation, evolution, scientific discovery,
think about the most delicate and the most rich of things, of colors,
to piece together beautiful sentences
I hope you will like to read

possibilities

timber fence along the worn road
feels the wheels of the Ford deeply
absorbs the hums and chatters of
four children that giggle at the sight
of a duckling that splashes
in a pond of possibilities

the sky's serious grey eyes meet the pond
the pond reflects only
the smile of the three year-old boy
who sees himself running in
endless fields of green

"Nothing is to be rated higher than the value of the day" - Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

I lie still
water ripples
sun sets
clay holds me together

I lie awake - the darkness
at the bottom of the ocean
plots with my demons

I ask the past to forget
but its echoes are forever singed


The future, she improves
as I tread upon this clay sand
and become enchanted with her sky,
breathe in the peach indigo sunset -
become a part of her permanent beauty,
swim in her glory, and forgive her mystery.

The sunset reflects its tangerine light
upon my shaking legs, the legs that
have arrived in the present
and are scared.

word of the day euthenics or "him"

a better life-
famous for long tea breaks

the last cup of coffee we shared over pancakes
is my favorite

you know the spot at the top of the house
that leads to the ledge out the window
the best place to play evening cards

If I studied euthenics I'd recommend we all
have wrap-a-round porches, window ledges for every window,
a day each week set aside for
sand in the toes...
sunscreen on the nose...

seawater skin spas on the free beach
because no one owns the land

we'd partner in our studies and invent more things like
geothermic floors
stained glass doors
the fluffiest socks
a wall of rocks
intertwined with vines and flowers tall -
sunflowers, a fence of them

we'd be there on our porch, deciding whether to face
east or west
as we search for stars
sip warm chamomile
swing

search for nothing

word of the day requisite or "posting for a position on my farm"

must have the will
to eat, drink, love, build

madness, a skill,
your necessary evil,
specific to you

two shoes,
one shirt -
flip-flops okay (for now -
we provide used boots)

sunscreen suggested,
especially for the pale

no need to bring your own pail

the ability to look over trite trifles
help Telly the pig find her truffles

learn to use our topsoil
to build a disappearing heap
out of your worries

cover the manual Bill gives you with your breakfast
crumbs, saliva, fresh coffee drips,
anything...don't read it

new things must be tried
potatoes are best fried

make a friend on your first day
write her number down on
a napkin

when the napkin gets lost in the field,
call her anyway

ask a lot of questions,
especially of the groundhogs

bring your joy

Get your bread

Single file
Do not stop to see
The aching body of
The blind man

Or the child
With the empty pan

Straight ahead
Work work
Till your dead
To buy the new
.....

It's the same as the last
Everyone has it

But not the blind man
Not the child
With the empty pan

Forward now
Keep your pace
You've nearly won
The human race

Don't even blink
No time to think
The end's ahead
You're nearly dead