fuel.

For a time I need some respite.
my weary head is filled with stars that grow up from tree trunks...
and critters scattering in the night over tumbled down garbage cans
laughing herendously and pulling their hair out...

I still have mine though;I just, pause, look at how fast the time is moving and tell them to slow down.
they need their hair.
to protect their heads for a while..
and know they possess youth.

Im going to visit my favorite family in the entire world.
the writer and the scientist. and the girl with big black eyes.
small family, small house, small ghetto, small town.
I hope they adopt me.

sometimes birthrights are rights that dont have to be held up in lawcourts.
I have seen it done.
black eyes, bruises. gittery words and alcoholic shakes.
marital vows were all that started it and fertilized eggs.

but then there are these moments and pets and we feed on them.
till we are satiated like a band-aid soaked, ruddy, splotched.
there are scars, yes.
but what else are they then? marks for stories.

i need a respite, i said.
green, and spouts and flowers.
cascades. ill tromp to...
forests broken with winter ill pass under.

there will be compliments and talk.
giggles and laughter...
a special movement that does not splinter
between wide gaps of time.

i need this fuel.
to lessen my vulnerability.
streghthen my wit.
and soothe the beasts we share.

-i think that is how i write poetry.