every mission mistaken

every mission mistaken
explanations laying on the floor

of the kitchen in the form of marks

whole ranks of dishes or pans

unwashed turning into fantastic dioramas

in the sink which contains worlds

meanwhile the yard beckons

the sky surges blue bluer BLUE 

birds twirl in the apple tree

drawings on the table paintings

offering some excuse or reason 

worked through all this by doing 

in the imperfect can be found

a certain level of dignity 

even solace as long

as we realize we have it 

***

stressed as sandpaper

stressed as sandpaper
wearing everyone away

__

i go to the florists

i go to the florists

hoping they can fix

my life

**

to mind

to mind
or ignore
any
convention

with my
precious
friends
all a
meditation

like
drops of
rain fall
into
a barrel

--

Hat Lake

i dream about the monsters below

i dream about the monsters below

dark in the water like a green cougar or a snake
and the thunderers above

throwing their lightening stones and grappling

in a white fog that covers when they come 

the surface of the lake churns into white froth

i have not really known anything 

of this endless contest of theirs though it was

cycling all around me for so long 

if i am teachable i might even see the eggs

they spring from or the strange markings 

they sometimes leave on the earth 

or perhaps i will always be an outcast

in this and other things that fly by announce

circle and then go over the horizon 

have compassion for every orphan

who wanders this earth far from dwellings

that were burned 

and remembrances 

of forsaken places float like bits of ash

on the smoke of this space we call home

---

i really thought

i really thought 

if i understood you

what you were teaching

then i'd understand everything

but the only thing 

that i can understand is

regret of how i wasted my time

in believing i could believe

but the good news in this

i am also free and i always was

more like a firefly of thoughts

playing in the universal garden 

just after a rain

__

if i do not make sense
i have a chance to be true

nonsense can be as educating

as mud 

there's an ocean above me

an ocean in me

and an ocean below

all of them full of stars

and that isn't my fault 

which means it is 

can't be lost or earned

we are full of wonder

head to toe time no barrier

you are out there

and in here always 

descriptive beyond repair

a moose can run on water

or try silence 

which is not