I do

I signed the deal that day in blood,
then sealed it with the kiss of birth.
Loyal. Faithful. Servant. Friend.
Wonder what that’s really worth.

Intoxication: love is grand.
Floating through the clouds on high.
Invincibility sets in, waving
in awe while Golden Eagles fly by.

Unveiled eyes begin to sting.
Ears that ring reach pressure points.
Innocence drowned in a paper bag,
suffocates mobility of tender joints.

There’s a glade I visit when I’m down,
to fall back upon the earth and weep.
I lie beneath the willows’ shade
and cast my cares for them to keep.

My tears, they fall from grace to dirt,
penetrating Gaia’s breast.
These tears are roots: they sow and reap.
Ash to beauty. Release most blessed.

How could I know the flowers trapped cares;
releasing them to the hummingbirds’ probe?
Nature’s nymphs, so innocent and sweet;
singing my secrets across the globe.

A melody sweet (to vultures in wait).
The mountains, they hear, along with the sky.
Once the crows catch wind, the fat lady sings.
And all I can do is eat some crow pie.

There’s a fly on the wall – no wait, there’s three:
their steely little eyes fixed upon me.
They watch as I pet that angry mutt,
and blink when it growls and pees on our tree.

Now what can I say to make any sense?
I guess I’ve got some explaining to do.
I grasp at the wind for answers in flight.
One day I might decode this thing I do.

My Head Was in the Clouds All Right

Dream-filled balloons sailed away that day.
I noticed that you forgot

to tie a note on the end
of each string.
How will they know what to do
when they reach their destination?
How will I ever reconnect
with the prophecy that fills each one
with such hope?

How could you turn your back

on my dreams? It seems
silly that I even have to ask.

Dancing in the clouds
without a care in the world;
high on hopes and hopes on high.
The sky’s the limit
(for the harm they may find along the way).

Pillow-talk: one’s been pierced
by Cupid’s bolt.
It's said that the fool’s bolt is soon spent.
Those Heartsease spread like wildfire, you know;
consuming everything in their path –
and that’s just for afternoon sport.

What will become of the one
sitting within the belly of the whale
shaped cloud? Will rebellion
reign or submission sustain?
An abortion? Birthed before its time?

There’s the one that got sucked into the right
wing engine fan at the wrong time.
It’s said that it was skinned beyond recognition,
save the shiny red string that to this day
flies at attention during every run.
A confetti still dancing

as it never got the note that the party’s over.

What about the others? I suppose I’ll never know.
I never dreamed I’d need a forwarding address
the day I felt so high
with my head in the clouds,
waving at my beautiful balloons as they traveled
away from me–

floating into someone else’s reality.