Out of my head
spring the shapes
and colors of red
and blue landscapes.

Beasts and birds
trip and fall
like lips with words
too heavy to call.

They start as tear drops
and grow leaves
and stringy hair flops
into eyes that grieve.

Swords sprout
from sharp little fingers
and raise shields worn out
from fear that lingers.

They talk to flowers
and they breath the trees
hear the creak of hours
and eat the smell of leaves.

I want to water them
and make them grow
coddle them
and teach them how to sew.

But they can’t stay in my head
they must explore
they can’t stay in this pen
there’s an open door.

The flat wide blank
doesn’t know what’s in store
The ship that sank
knows not the depth of the ocean floor.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s