Poem with Lay of the Land

Take me with you
the water bucket cries to the vast sunlight &
bright stars forever spilling out top the well
but trapped is as trapped does,
especially on view at the bottom.
If there is an afterlife
all our heavy books seem to tell us
in the afterlife
denial does not exist.

Still the while us
smelling the roses,
blowing on dandelions,
in order to figure out
what to wish for next.
I'm skipping stones in my head, see?
Deep in some parts,
shallow in the others,
the lake's surface up there
is just beginning to completely thaw out.



"Is the Problem That We Just Can't See
or Is the Problem That This Is Beautiful To Me?"


There is the sin of entitlement
and there is the sin of a miniskirt already too tight
pinned high up against the white tile
of the employees bathroom wall.
Too many fingers.
What are some of your favorite means of redemption?
Go on and whisper them sultry
in my good ear quick.

Lurking in the background of my favorite
passages of Scripture is always the message
Don't be a drama queen.

Sometimes God is a frail giraffe vast in the outback,
thinking only with the neck.

Sometimes even He,
as we cross the bridge, run the light,
doesn't believe what is going to happen next.