Re-running

Keeping breathing even
because I know I'm
trespassing in your air
tip-toeing the oxygen
(like ants
taking whats too big for them
to hold)
dragging it down
Losing my place
you wipe your fingers across the trace
now at a loss
I am casting forth a line
hoping you might bite
but (no such luck)
we have heard this one before
and everything we are
comprised in this "exchange"
this salvaged re-run we rehearse
gets laugh-track applause
as I am running out of breath.

jotted this down on a napkin some weeks ago

You are one person I want at my funeral
[have you been balancing again?
been carrying war on your back and shoulders,
made them heavy with ill-fitting loads]
worthy of remembrance, guilty of perseverance
of anyone I know, you are the heart-iest
love. is blind [and you are blind]

Destination, beautiful

I had always imagined my senior year being like... the big cymbal crash. The resounding last note that I've been working up towards all this time. But, now that I'm here, it just doesn't seem that important anymore; that "last impression." It's just one of the 12 years. It may be the last note, but like the others, it's just a note. The whole progression is the finale. Or as I like to say, "There's a piece of destination in every step of the journey."

Let the season's change wash over me
(I know you feel it too.)
The beauty and the balance of
A chapter starting new.

Destination, beautiful
In its mystery.
I asked him, "Lord, where should I go?"
And he said "Follow Me."

(Through deserts turned into living springs
Through valleys of darkest death
And in the presence of enemies
Find places of peaceful rest.)

I angle toward the unknown.
My wingtips turn and bend
Circle round, slow and sound
(And downward I descend.)

Destination, beautiful
In its clarity:
I asked him, "Lord, where should I go?"
And he said "Follow Me."