Big Adventure (NaPoWriMo17 10/30)

603354_201182953378695_1751730489_n

 

Cruising with the top down

shotgun

to escaped con

showing what the rebel is,

still getting the work done.

Yet two,

count ’em, two,

distinct threads

that have unraveled

while working another angle,

and though I look my best in this here dress,

it’s all just a smokescreen

the disguise from which

I hide my eyes, the authorities,

and those carefully woven lies.

Taking pictures won’t make it last.

So on to the next charade.

 

Patching up other things

loves, lives,

tires on a bike

that lay within the basement

of the Alamo.

A fight for independence

from studio execs

my kids demanding:

 

“ACTION!”

 

when I’m always forgetting my lines.

 

Yet, I’ll always come in swinging,

run into that burning building for you

even with the threat of snakes

consequences be damned.

A Christian Man Tries His Hand at Parenting (NaPoWriMo17 6/30)

I think I tried this

last year. Struggling

through the day:

amid laundry, dinner,

dishes piled high.

 

Bathtub, filling up, just enough

the rest upon the floor,

now, your eyes

taken out too early

off to bed too late.

 

“Take my hand, oh fisher of men.”

The waters as they

rise, course above my head

upended by the waves

capsized, baptized

looking for the light, found,

saved,

by the side of the road, in a

puddle, muddy, muddle, shallow,

reflecting me.

 

 

Sundowny (NaPoWriMo17 5/30)

The golden

seething summer sun

settles in the west.

Beams, like bristles,

a pointy sundown crown.

 

I don’t know who you

are, but I’ve been waiting

as you walk away from the forest,

animals following behind you

frolic as you call to them

with your magical whistle.

 

Seated beside you

holding your hand

holding back

holding on.

You are here,

but I am waiting for someone

else, for this to be over.

TTOWBW: Last 4th of July: Plan of Attack (NaPoWriMo17 3/30)

20170403_131712Founder’s Mound on the common green

where heads of state still sleep

rings of concrete and of trees

be careful where you step

Circles kept them safe at bay

from rolling over in their graves

gazes baleful, turned their way

should the two dare aim to misbehave

Stood stock-still as ceme’try stones

as the two boys hurried past

the Red Eyes rose to their full height

to the old rules they held fast