EUCALYPTUS

lacquered with moonlight

wind wincing through them

they squeal like mice

huddled in a haunted house

SYLLABLES

The world is whispering.

Slow down

and you will hear  

the cynosure

in the syllables

it is singing.

Beads on a strand.

Prayers in your hand.

Hold these susurrations 

like this. Feel them. 

Let them guide you

like a star in the night.

Like a tail

that wags its dog.

THE GOOD CHINA

Heave it against the wall. 

Break as many heirloom plates as it takes

to have the argument you’re not having.

Hold nothing back.

This time, though, the person 

you are feuding with is you.

After you are good and done,

after the dust has settled,

and you are a little worse for the wear,

a bit shell shocked and still red-in-the-face,

only then can you start the real work.

From the scattered broken pieces

strewn about the room

make something new. Do it

with the precision and moxie

of a forger attending to his masterpiece.

This is how you keep it fresh, your genius, 

how you keep from falling asleep at the wheel 

of your of own originality.

CRUMBS

breadcrumbs

in a dark wood

follow them away

from the fairy tale

don’t use them

to make

a false home,

a candy-coated

house that hides

a boiling pot and

a blind hunger

inside

let them lead you 

out then feed 

them to Crow

or Coyote 

watch the scraps

turn into

shining stones 
that will skip

like light across 
the lake of your life

THE CATCHER

An obstacle course

of my own invention.

Like a Rube Goldberg cartoon.

Too many dominos,

links in the chain,

machinery, devices.

Pulleys and levers.

Cogs and wheels.

Conveyor belts.

Catapults.

Scales.
Not to mention...

the boxing gloves

and bowling balls.

Mallets and axes.

Pales of water.

Bird cages.

Donkeys and alligators.

Light bulbs and lawnmowers.

Alarm clocks.

All I was trying to do

was catch a winged thing.

Instead I got caught 

in my own creation.
In hindsight now I see

all I really needed was a net.