Just a thought.

and right here in the middle of class I am overwhelmed.
with this thought that my Lord could, if He so desired,
pour His love over me until I couldn't help but sing.
And it would cause quite a spectacle because this is a more
somber class.
but sometimes I wonder, who has a better sense of humor
than the Almighty?
and He mostly laughs at my jokes so far as I can tell
and He sometimes rolls His eyes at me
but he always loves me
even when I hate Him
which does happen if I'm to be honest.
Am I to be honest then?
I sure as hell hope so. Or else, what's all this for anyway?
and so what if he did lavish me in sweet love this very moment?
I wouldn't put it past Him.

Dance

I can’t dance.

I know you say there’s nothing to it

Besides forgetting your limits

And never regretting what you forget.

But there’s a method to the melody,

A system to the swing of things,

A right way to rhythm,

And a frequency to freedom and flow.

It’s never easy to

Just let go.

.

Don't hate me if I admit that I'm bored most of the time.
I listen for a bit, think about my life, tune back in, and then drift off again.
It's nice. Comforting. It's nothing against you or your wisdom. I do want it bestowed upon me.
I just have the attention span of a five year old.
And there is only so much I will retain.
and everyone wants to be listened to.
I need you to make me listen. Ravish my mind with new information
pour out your heart and your soul
and your shit and your beauty
give me second helpings and then thirds because I'm begging
Don't hate me if I'm a tough crowd that smiles like I'm easy
touch me in a new place and remind me that I'm alive
and that you are too
connect with me even if it scares you.
my eyes are more than the way they look through you
I promise.

School spirit.

I'm raising my hand. Please tell me I'm valuable. My questions are thoughtful aren't they? Haven't I done well? Why won't you answer me? I don't want to forget. It's a good one. I might even give YOU something to think about professor! Or you could reprimand me. That would be fine too. Won't you teach me? Engage me in conversation, wed me to knowledge! I sit. Hand raised. It's sagging. Getting tired. Support it at the elbow with my left hand. Head tilted. What?!? Why did you call on her? She raised her hand way after me! Good question though. I'll give her that. But what about mine? It won't be as pertinent now. Oh no, you're starting to switch topics. I'm losing ground quickly. You think I'm rude don't you? Stubborn to keep my hand raised like this. Well I try to put it down but then you trail off at the end of a sentence and I think you're done. But nope, there you go again. Oh, please pick me next. Okay? Yea, yea, he's looking my way. Still talking... sigh. My time will come.

wet

i gather god's lakes in my palms,
rivers run down the hairs on my arms.
the drops in front of the spotlight
are notes, Cs and As and Gs
i want to ride on them, strap myself
into the liquid missile and fall, fall, fall.
shapes jump from the street,
the sultry lights of limos
and colors of taxi cabs.
headlights slither and taillights clean the streets.
stretch out your fingers now,
trace the patterns on the ledge with your toes.
don't dry off and don't think.
just watch the tourists
run and hide,
the lovers cry,
the homeless sleep.

Tangles

My fingers are tangled in white headphone chords,

my hair is inexcusably out of control,

and you expect me to be thinking of anything else

and anyone else but you?

Sometimes I simply get tired of untying knots,

and I allow myself the freedom to be twisted.

I miss my fetal swaddling,

my infantile cuddling,

my childhood games of tag:

Touch.

I find the thought of getting lost in you

a thought that I'm thinking too

Much-

tangled up and-

I can't tell whose fingers are whose,

which switch to choose

to keep from losing

you.

Fall Fever

loose leaf papers that fall out of folders
and loose leaves that fall out of oaks and maples
and staples has what you need for the season
and soon will you know what the reason for the season is
when the reason was the sun
we confused it with the son
but no apology is necessary we didn't know
I didn't know
until you ruined my Christmas with a talk about pagans
and call me a pagan but I like my damn tree
and that's much too far away to think about in august
but oh goodness it's september and that makes quite a difference
and you made quite a difference when you were still here anyway
and tomato orzo soup makes a difference on a cold day
and a smile makes a difference sometimes on a bad day
but right now it's loose leaf and loose leaves and folders and maples
and procrastination and anxiously waiting for something that won't happen
you would rather not know what and time begins tumbling in autumn
didn't I tell you?
yes, yes, it tumbles and rolls into heaps and piles
and before long red and yellows are white white white
and before long we will chat about pagans and hot chocolate
but right now I'm looking for a pile of red and yellow