Friday, June 23, 2017

Baggage Wall

Build your walls of baggage.

Try to keep me at bay 
but still
secretly hoping 
I'll save your day.

There isn't enough drama 
in your closet 
to fence out my heart, 
not enough skeleton clubs 
to cleave us apart.

Stack up your baggage, Baby.

That wall will make great fuel
for the flame we're gonna burn.
Bring me all the hopes 
you thought you'd have to urn.

Stack up all the things
you thought better left
in the dark,
because we're still
gonna make a great embark.
I'm your two by two,
and this is our story's arc.

We're plenty slick enough 
to slip these customs agents. 
Our good intentions 
are sly enough to slide those gates.
We can afford the waits.

Stack up you baggage, Baby.
It won't wall off our world.

In or out,
I want to know what you're all about.

We'll establish an ancient trade route.

Go ahead,
stack up your baggage, Baby.
Throw in the kitchen sink.

I've got a torch and a wink.
This is how we step 
                            over the brink.
Cat's have no boundaries. They're good at love like that.


Sunday, June 18, 2017

Things we've lost

We've lost
Another sunset lost.
all kinds
of things...

Your keys,
in another state.
My ring,
in another country.
Our way home
at night
and once,
in broad day light.
But never
one another.

Our tempers,
in another fight.
Our patience,
in another minute.
Lots of sight
of the whole
point.
But never
our love.

My will power.
Your courage.
Our fortitude
in a storm
of grief.
Our place
among the flames
of too many
disasters.
But never
our hope.

Plenty of time.
Yesterday,
and occasionally,
even tomorrow.
Maybe some
memories.
But never
today,
this chance,
to find
ourselves
together,
again.

We've lost
far fewer
things
than
we've gained.

Friday, June 16, 2017

Active listening

I scoured every word you uttered.
I scaled carefully in between lines, staking out each possible path toward discerning
all of your hidden meanings.
I chalked the hands of my focus, ensuring I could catch and grip
each of your non-verbal hints long enough to climb the mountain of our misunderstanding
until we could reach some shared summit.
I avoided all unsteady crevasses, hasty assumptions, and crumbling interruptions so that I might hear better the toe-holds to your thoughts.
I was so careful, that you laughed and said that I creeped like a creep,
I treated the plain planes of your intentions as if they were an Everest.
and that left you wondering
if it was you that I feared such a moron or if I was the dullard
to require such safety measures in active listening.
You couldn't decide if you should be offended,
but you were any way
out of principle
unwilling to be metaphorically scoured and scaled.
It occurs to me that I do not need to attend every word.
Even in the dark I could find your heart,
just by stilling my mind,
and closing my eyes,
to find the steady drip, drip
of what you want and why
letting the rest dip away unheard
like stone wearing way under water
at sea level.
No climbing required to actively listen
and echo you back
until we know we're understood.
This act of active listening
is less action
and more
listening,
than implied.
The peak of Mt. Wheeler in Great Basin National Park, where climbers frequently stack stones while listening to the wind together.