Microfiction

Come away, said the trees.
Come away into the dance, away
from pain, from suffering.
The child listened,
the child went
into the woods.
Away.

For Microfiction Monday

Stan loved Ida.
Ida loved Jane.
Jane loved Bob.
Bob loved Stan.

The only thing they could agree on
was a love for beer.

Microfiction

She rode the train, a child hobo.
There was no going back, no moving
forward. Carlisle had raped her Soul.
She rode the white man's horse.



A note to this: Carlisle was the most notorious Indian school at the turn of the century, forcing Native American children to leave their families on the Rez and was a form of cultural genocide that the US gov. used.

Try

a strong wind
rushing over the mountain
soaring wings

Microfiction

Pegasus dared. Flying against reason,
against restraints.
The dreamers rode his back
to freedom.

Micofiction

The child had been placed in the water.
The water had parted, but not like Moses.
He didn't walk like Jesus.

Roads

a ribbon of gold
a haze of heat shimmer.
straight west
the path to promise.
another road to follow.
what lays over the hill
every turn an adventure
traveling, never stopping.
the call of the road
this American dream,
riding the backs of monsters
riding freedom

Lonely

All my days I dreamed
ants tickled my feet,
unloved by her.
I looked like my mom,
my mom who had no family.
a scar across her neck
whispering to stop,
not to return until dusk.
my mother cried lonely
society failed her.
girls don't go to collage
lesbians are ill.
we escaped from the world
moving, always moving
then she left.
sucked the blood through my teeth.
she never held us close
solid but not there
freezing into stillness.
in dreams there is death
sitting alone, sitting lonely
imaging things that keep everyone away
everyone lonely

A Sestina on Icarus

You flew too high
to that place called the Sun.
You never should have tried
on things like wings
made of wax and dreams.
Of this your father should have foreseen.

Had you foreseen
this instead of getting high
and forgetting your dreams.
Where did the Sun
fade on life as fragile as wings
that all had tried

just like you tried
in a world foreseen
not to end on wings
but in a glory on high,
the father blessed by a Son
while we fall into dreams.

You ignored the dreams
in a fever of the tried,
forgot the Sun
blazing as foreseen
by the Mystic standing high
upon the mountain, where wings

soar, or sore, wings
of falcons, messangers of dreams
to fly and fly high,
reminding us that we had tried
to wonder that which was foreseen
in the patterns of the Sun.

Always it falls to the Son
to spread his wings,
to fulfill what was foreseen
in his father's dreams,
and that he had tried
but he flew too high.

Even the Sun has troubled dreams
of delicate wings that failed and tried
to ignore what was foreseen and fall on high.

haiku for our holly tree

sunshine
golden through holly leaves
silhouette

Chaos

a star falls
in death a birth
the black hole