Looking out in space

I wanted to study myself

from a distance looking back

so I sent out a telescope

as far as I could reach

intending to turn its eyes to me

but it kept looking out in space

I sent it out a thousand miles

and called it with my name

but it kept looking out in space

I looked for myself

in the disappearing distance

and cried out    come back

but I kept looking out in space

 

He heard the echo

He heard the echo of footsteps

retreating from the empty game

of his life

felt strangely naked

walking the halls of normal

without a personality

he used to have one

everyone does

maybe he lost it

in transition to this world

what are the rules here

they shift like a mirage

in the desert

he keeps crashing into walls

disguised as figures of speech

he wants to climb the ladder home

there was no other person to be

he has to inhabit this one

it is his life

there is no other voice to speak 

he has to speak this one

it is his voice

 

Songs

I made a list of the songs

of my life

a mix of dancing with pain

a heart wrapped in skin

with eyes

joy in the mountains

peace in the ocean

equipment wearing out

the music goes on

heart beats into the rhythm

of the sky

Today’s nursery rhyme

Once upon a time

we all fall down

ring a pound of poses

a parade of roses

and we all fall down

between rocks and hard places

eyes and frozen faces

we all fall down

row row your boat

we still fall down

Mary had a little lamb

he fell down too

Fill in the blanks

Some days when I get up

I play a game I call

fill in the blanks

I move around doing the things

I normally do every morning

hoping that eventually

a human will come

to occupy this moving

empty space

the game ends when he says

ok I’m here now

sorry I was late

Begin

 

In your search for answers

do you ask a passing train

 

are the broken numbers left

at the end of crooked lines

 

if you make a hole in a circle

will the center all run out

 

when you arrive at the end

is this where you begin

Connection

Photo by Dan Fraser

 

In the gathered green distance

of his choices

a curious animal turns towards

the nine rainbows of conclusion

he knows some things cannot be

even when he considers trusting

the wild eyes of now

the voice of here

or the rumors of anywhere

he has to tell his story

including the nine tilted windmills

of connection