THE TREE

There is a magnificent tree

in my mind,

in my imagination,

a Douglas Fir

let’s say,

and in its strong arms

are the bodies

of men,

in all shapes and ages,

climbing, rising

carrying curses

and gifts, gifts

and curses, and

the one dream:

to be bark, sap, and root,

to be threaded into sky,

to know what it means

to make air,

and how

silently

 a world can be saved

a day at a time

for centuries,

while living inside

a grief

that chooses

not to speak.

THE DOLPHIN

I wish I were a dolphin -

caught in a storm

off the coast of Puerto Rico,

battered all night

by the fierce water,

the rock and reef,

then hurled ashore,

pectoral fin driven deep

into the wet earth.

I am trapped, on my side,

burdened by a weight and mass

I’m not used to having.

I am here,

as the storm subsides,

as the wind and waters calm,

as the sun climbs the ladder of the sky,

as the great ocean tries to bring me,  

her lost child, home again

but can’t.

I am here,

among the seas’ debris,

the wreckage of broken trees and rock,

a prisoner to sand,

drowning in too much air,

baking beneath the mid-day sun.

Dying.

In a world where

there is no echo

in which to locate myself.

This is when you appear.

Unencumbered by thought,

you rush to me,

with a freedom you do not have

among your own kind.

You bend down,

over my fusiform body,

my blue-grey freckled flesh,

to assess the damage:

the deep gashes

along my length, my fins,

the bleeding and shredded snout,

the tattered blowhole,  

that opens and closes

like a muted and mangled mouth,

a breathing wound.

You look into my eye

and are surprised to see

there is no panic there,

only trust.

I know you will not harm me.

I know you are here to save me.

I see this in you.

You drop to your knees,

plunge your short arms,

your puny hands,

into the sand

and thrust them underneath me,

under my slick wide body

and begin to lift

as the tide swells in around me -

the curve of my spine

marrying itself

to the curve of your arm.

We are flesh against flesh,

bone against bone.

This is what I wish for:

to be met by utter abandon.

To be loved with no hesitation,

without the meddling intrusion

of doubt & indecision, without

the fear of judgment or the threat

of disappointment.

Just one being

melding with another.

I am dying

for this day to come.

For the day I am a dolphin

and not a man.

CONTACT  

     

Bought a goldfish

and a bowl.

Carried carefully

the orange body home

in the plastic bag

ballooning with water.

Filled the bowl

from the faucet.

Opened the bag.

Poured the fish in.

Bent down.

Looked in.

Tapped the glass.
Craving contact. 
Such a strange way
to go about it.
Who is at the glass:

me or mystery?

Who is in the bowl:
 me or mystery?