I had a flower.
Fresh as morning meadow.
Soothing as morning dew.
Elegant like the slanting late light of day.

I had a honey comb palace.
I carried as a babe to home,
The nectar of the flower:
Nurtured a kingdom of gold.

My flower is gone,
The nectar is dry,
The palace is bare,
And I starve.

I am a homeless bee,
Free to to be lost,
A prisoner to wandering,
Free to be found.

Hark, Door Hart!

Have ever you felt the heart of a door?
Three feet width,
Two inches thick,
Six feet height.
No, not there

Doubled hinges,
Golden knob,
Framed like a picture.
No, there is much more.

There is this translational portal.
From here to there,
From atrium to room,
From large to small.

In between an even smaller abode:
The door room doorway and its door,
Giving safe passage
Safe interstitial travel

Take heed sweet Jay bird.
Fly with valiant haste,
And take care; greet your friend door.
As a light feather, let it to elegant rest.

Dogs Teeth

I can run from dogs teeth
And step from sun to the shade.
I can run from “it”, in our game of tag
And sidestep a flying dart.

I cannot wander from my body
Despise and obsess
I cannot skip from my mind
Rage and fury

I want to run and I cannot run;
This is it.
I want to hide and I cannot hide;
This is now.

I hate this
I hate
I hate this

I build walls to protect,
Rules and decrees,
And they consume me.

When will I live what I strive to protect?
What am I protecting?
What is being saved?

The walls demand
Until the very foundation is carried
To build at the top
And it falls with nothing beneath.

Now not even a grim great wall
To show for this life.

All is confusion.