Collecting Stamps

Your textual context is dense
And sometimes heartbreakingly dark
But with Cliffhanger Notes in hand
I wade, waist deep, into the space
Between the neat lines
Where the real you
Just might lurk
Yearning to be understood
Hiding behind the shadows
Of approaching twilight

Casual approval
And gold foil stars
Are not what I need from you
I collect unguarded looks
Fleeting smiles
Unconscious laughter
And paste them proudly
Like stamps in my passport
Just graffiti on a wall
Testifying that I am really here
With you
Sharing a cold midnight
Leaning toward each other
Meeting in a warm pool of waxy candle light
Translating ancient languages
Into modern love poems

Share with me the diamond dew
Displayed on blades of grass
This morning

4 > 0

Being against something
Strengthens the thing you are fighting
It defines you as opposed to that thing
What happens if that thing disappears?
Who will you be?
Being against things is a zero sum game

Being for something is much harder
But it defines you as being part of a thing
Part of a thing that you love
As long as you are for that thing
That thing and you cannot disappear
You know who you are

Being anti-war
Subtly increases war
Being active for peace
Increases the power of peace
If more energy is directed towards peace
War will naturally decrease

Let us spend the effort and the time
To discover who we are
And what we are for
For love
For peace
For compassion
For dignity
For health
For education
For saving our selves and all others

For is Greater than Zero

Heads Will Roll

Couldn't afford 200 bucks
For a recycled ticket to paradise
So I avoided the long lines
And the black Tee-shirts
I thumbed a ride out of town
With a gender confused
Trans Ambulance chaser
A wild honey dripper
Who gave me the grand tour
Of the wild side
The under side
Your side
And my side
Before slip sliding away
Into the petroleum sunset
Stone free
Forgotten
But united with something
Ingenious and indigenous
Couldn’t afford 20 bucks
For a bus ticket to the marketplace
So I loitered with the locals
And drank green tea
And added my gangly rhythms
To an impromptu jam session
Pounding on a rusty bucket
And chanting a wordless
But not soulless
Litany of solitude
Of solidarity
And finally of solace
Before slip sliding away
Into the hydrogen sunrise
Thankful for the tour
And the postcards
And the friendly natives
Who helped me feel at home
But most of all
Grateful for the miles
Stretched out beneath my feet
For the throbbing of my temples
That tells me
Tells me
Tells me
I am alive