Magic.

Picture this:

leaves falling
(gold, red, green)
all around you.

a warm hand for your left
and cocoa for your right.

Brilliant chicago with
brilliant lights and
a brilliant smile
that shines
all the way into your heart;

and a scarf to keep the cold
from ruining the moment.

Yes. This is magic.

Meeting Elizabeth Bishop.

Yesterday-
I read Elizabeth Bishop
and thought nothing,
felt nothing.

Today,
I read Elizabeth Bishop
and thought something,
felt everything.

Now
my eyes grow misty and soften
but tears can't fall.
Line sixteen changed
it all.

Again.

I’ve untied your fingers from
around my neck, slowly allowing
air to fill my lungs
again.

It’s a strange and distant
process, even painful, but
it’s nice to feel….something…
again.

There’s a sense of shock that
I wasn’t more cautious, more wary,
that I allowed you in
again.

Now that your frozen, heartless skin is
relieved from mine, you had better
believe that there won’t be another
again.

Building a Portfolio.

A bright haired professor wears glasses
and discusses God’s plan for my life.
A scary thought, indeed.

I never heard a sound escape His lips,

no gurgle, nor whisper.
But I haven’t met resistance.

They say, “How do you know? You might be wrong.”

But I’m not. Trust that I’m not. Believe that I’m not.
I’m definitely not.

“You’re the most disorganized person I know.”

Yes, I’m not denying that. Let’s examine my passion
and proceed from there, shall we?

I need to learn and I need to teach

what I know to those that don’t.
I need to be needed and to influence.