She sat in the forest

till leaves fell from her clothing

and the ends of her hair whipped up into vines

her hands rooted themselves to the powdery earth

and she slept like a tree in the winter

the willows grew around her

the years flew by like seconds

the dawning sun of each morning blending into twilight grey

the dew falling on her silvery shoulders

painting the grass and dirt

with starlight

birds nested in the crooks of her elbows

mice nestled in the folds of her eyes

the forest moved subtly

with each passing moment

alive and solemn and still

growing

as only a forest can

the sun danced through the gaps in the leaves

pine-cones fell to the springy earthy ground

the moon gazed upon the night

like a watchman from a tower

noticing each detail as a world of its own

the girl in the forest sat

a living, breathing thing

with a place in creation

of her own

then she awoke

and the scales fell from her eyes

and the binds from her wrists

the gag from her mouth

and she realized what we’ve missed

in the cities

and the suburbs

and the computerized

robotified 

lives we lead.

Once upon a time

there was a man who told tall tales.
He stood at the edge of the village
and would tell his stories to anyone who would listen
he'd tell them tall
he'd tell them wild
and the people laughed
as he boasted and bragged
as he bragged and he boasted they'd laugh.
one day he claimed:
I can jump higher than any man can
higher than the rabbits or the fish
I can jump higher than the trees
and this is how I learned
on the first day of the year I dug a hole
as deep as my knees
and every day for a month,
I would practice jumping out from the hole.
the next month I dug a hole to my mid-thigh
and every of that month
I would practice jumping out from the hole.
The third month of the year I dug the hole deeper
the edge of the hole reached my hip
and each day for that month, I'd jump out.
the fourth month- you can guess what I did
I dug a hole just as deep as my waist
and every day I jumped out.
the fifth month- things were much the same
the fifth hole reached my ribs,
and the next month my chest
and the seventh hole was best
for it was as deep as my shoulders-
and each day that year I'd jump out of the hole
as it got deeper and deeper until,
at the end of the ninth month I could jump
from a hole that was as tall as me.
The villagers were stunned- how could it be?
And a voice from the crowd-
a disgruntled young man
tired of hearing tall tales
said to the people, let's see if he can
jump out of a hole as high as he is.
So they all dug a hole
and they put the man in it
and could he jump out? No he couldn't
and they all walked away
and they left him there
and the young man was the one who suggested:
that the tall-tale-teller would stay in the hole
until he could jump his way out

If I should ever build a boat

I will name it after you.
It will be as perfect as you are
With tall masts and beautiful, unruffled sails
my boat will be reliable,
sailing strong and steady across stormy seas
it won't sit too low in the water
it won't sit too high either
it won't have a motor
but it will have shorelights
and every time I turn them on,
you'll know what I'm thinking about.
If I should ever build a boat
I will paint it gold and blue
blue for the way I'll feel when I leave it
and gold for the way I'll feel while I sail:
the same way I feel when I see you
the boat won't be perfect
but no one ever is,
it'll be close though, I hope.
If I should ever build a boat
I'll sail it home to you.

2 am

In the house where I grew up
There was a large, black grand piano
And when I was just three years old
I used to pile up old phonebooks to stand on
Just so that I could sit on the bench and reach for the keys
but once I could reach the keys
my feet couldn't reach the ground
and I would sit on the big black piano bench
In front of the big black grand piano
crying until someone- usually my mother
Would come and play for me

And I would close my eyes
And I'd smile
And I'd imagine myself dancing

It's midnight and the clock is chiming
A big grandfather clock, just outside my bedroom door
It's been there for as long as I can remember (and maybe then some?)
It's older than my mother's mother
Small taps sound on my window, and I race to the latch
I remove the screen and Tim slides inside
And we're kissing our hellos and groping around the room
And we're turning out the lights as we sigh
He pulls me to the bed and I can't think for all my worries
And I try to imagine heaven, but I can't
Because nothing could be better than a rainy October midnight
On which I've got the man I love in my bed

And I close my eyes
And I smile
And I imagine myself dancing

It's dark outside, the clock strikes two, and Tim nudges me awake
We stumble out my bedroom door and find the room with the grand piano
We shut the door behind us- it's soundproof (trust our luck)
And he sits down on the bench and places his fingers on the keys
I sit there wordless for god knows how long
I can't think or move a muscle
But I listen to every note he plays,
Memorizing the melody and making it a part of myself
And we sit there together- the man I love and I
Together in the house where I grew up
The house with the big black grand piano
And the constant Grandfather clock (which is just now striking three)

And I close my eyes
And I smile
And I'm imagining myself dancing

I grew up in a world
Built on things I could depend on
And then I met someone
Who knocks on my window at midnight
and plays the piano at two am in the morning
The reality of life is that we have to stop imagining that we're dancing
And just dance.
Tim and I did
Outside
In the rain
On that cold October morning
And I never for one minute regret that we did.

Paper Planes, Jeremy and the Way We Solved Our Problems

I taught you how to make your first paper plane.
I was in love with you.
I think.
It was so long ago that it's hard to remember,
But I do remember shaking my head at the paper plane you made along side your friends
Trying to make a plane by folding-squishing the paper into
what I assume was supposed to look something like a plane
And then sticking tape all over it to make it stay in that shape.
I should have realized then that you could never love me
Because where I tried to fix problems by making them right,
You would just stick some more tape on all of your shortcomings and hope that no one would notice
It was so long ago, but I remember
I was the nerdy, awkward, socially-inept third grader
And you were the "fly," rabble-rousing fourth grade student
King of the summer camp playground, conqueror of all the rug-rats and dirty rascals.
I was in love with you.
I think.
It was so long ago that it's hard to remember,
But I remember holding your hands, molding them to fold the perfect paper plane.
I remember smiling, sheepishly at you and saying "this is how it's done."
And that was all
But it wasn't.
Because two whole years later I transferred to your school
We were still children, but as children do, we thought ourselves adult
We scrambled over the monkey bars and you chased me through the "forest."
I realize now that the forest was just a small grove of trees,
And I see how small we were
But in that moment you were the biggest thing in my world:
The sun which I revolved around, my one true love.
You pulled my headbands off my head and threw them like frisbees with your friends
I didn't care.
All I cared about was you.
You teased me about my geeky books and all my nerdy ways
I didn't cry.
But I cried myself to sleep each night, wishing you would care for me.
I was in love with you.
I think.
But what is love if not the mere absence of hatred made stronger by mutual physical attraction?
What is love if not the mere absence of frustration, made stronger by the desire to procreate?
Love is nothing.
Love is childish, as small as we were and yet, as we did, Love thinks it's self adult.
I don't think you ever loved me,
We went our separate ways and now I see that it was for the best
Because you just stick some more tape on all of your shortcomings and hope that no one will notice them
I fix my problems by making them right.
So I'm fixing this problem
I'm going to fold it into a perfect paper plane
And I'm going to throw it out my window and out of my mind
I won't look back, and I promise I'll never think of you again.

Butterfly Girl

And I was just a fly on the wall
watching, horrified as your hand slipped into his
horrified mostly because of the innocence to be lost
but also horrified because I understood every bit of what was going on
and you understood none of it.

You were always the innocent one
the flower in the glass cage
the princess in the secluded palace

I saw you as a butterfly that had touched down in an empty house of grandeur. I watched you meander it's halls, your small butterfly footsteps echoing through the mansion. Your eyes vacant and staring straight ahead, your heartbeat slow and steady. Glass chandeliers lit your course in the empty, windless castle. Until one day you found the great wooden doors. And let yourself out into the world

Your skin burned in the hot summer sun. And you danced under the moon. You lost your innocence to the first man you ever kissed. And I was left to watch.

In the firelight I saw you
Your curly hair resting on his shoulder
His fingers caressing yours
You the innocent butterfly, he the enchanter
And I wanted to kill him
To protect your innocence
But I hadn't the heart to do it
Because he had you under his spell
And I couldn't kill you along with him

I should have but I didn't
So I watched as you fell for him
And realized that things were best this way
For your innocence was never lost in the way that mine was
Because you were the misled butterfly
And you, you pretty thing, enjoyed every bit of it.

Such is the seduction of the butterfly. She is innocent, yet a temptress. A child and yet she is a woman. She has the voice of a siren and the beauty of a fallen angel.

I only hope that you prove as strong as he
So that he can be enchanted as you were
For if he is, the spell shall last
but if not, it will break apart

As the enchanter becomes bored with the enchanted he will walk away from his beautiful butterfly. And leave her in the dark night, without his warmth or the firelight to save her from the ravenous wolves.

And so be strong, my butterfly girl
Bind the enchanter to you
across the miles between you, call to him
And tell him you wish for him every night
Ensure he never leaves you
And you will have the love of eternity
Your innocence will not be lost
To the soul of the enchanter
who holds you in his grasp

You are strong in your fragility, my butterfly girl. You are graceful in your failures. You are beautiful in your heart, and seductive in your innocence.

My butterfly girl.

The neighbor's girl.

Every day she walks to school. She crosses a bridge to get over the pond by her house. Half way across she stops, and drops a stick into the water. Then she turns around and looks over the other side of the bridge, waiting to see her stick floating away.
Sometimes I wonder what she is doing. Sometimes I tell myself I should go outside to ask her. But most days I stay in my room, gazing out my window and feeling sorry for her.
She looks tired. I can't imagine she gets much sleep. Her parents are up late into the night, yelling at one another. You could hear them from miles away. The neighbors talk about her, they say that someone should take her away from her parents and put her into a loving home. But no one has.
I've never seen her smile or heard her laugh. She doesn't play with other children and she has never had a birthday party. None of the things that so often grace a child's life are present in hers. I wonder how she does it. How she gets up in the morning, day after day, knowing that she'll be facing the same things she went through the day before. The same things she has gone through for as long as she can remember.
It must be hard.
But I guess that's how life is.

Blue Moon Jazz-dancer

A solitary figure walked down the street. In one hand he held a large black case, in the other, a cigar. He walked with a spring in has step, his head held high, whistling a jaunty tune. The man's fedora cast a shadow on his face, ensuring that none of his features were visible. Had anyone been able to see past the brim of his hat, they would have seen a flawless, symetrical face, with sharp, observant eyes. The face of a wanted man. Jerry Jones.
Jones raised his cigar to his mouth and took a long drag, blowing the smoke away into the night. As he did this, his sleeve fell back, revealing a golden watch, striking in comparison to his jet black skin. As the sleeve slid further, a scar appeared. Rounded and crossed, one could just faintly make out the letters BJ. A slave branding.
Jerry Jones walked down the street and out of sight. The blue moon watched him go.

------

At precisely three A.M. Mary Malone awoke to the sound of rocks hitting her window.
"What do you want?" She yelled out, peering into the darkness. A pause. "Jerry?"
And then, "Come on Mary, you know you want to."
"You're a crazy man Jones, they're offering nearly four hundred dollars for you now, you hear? I can't be seen with you."
"Aw, come on Mary, don't be like that. Come on out. We got some fiddles and my sax, all we need is a dancer."
"I told you Jones, not any more. If my mama knew what I was up to....." Mary's voice trailed off. She'd go and die all over again, that's what.
"Your mama's gone, girl." Jones whispered, "And she'd want you to have a little fun. I knew her better than you did. let's go."
Mary frowned. Nothing was clear any more. But she wanted to go. So bad. "Hang on a moment, I'll be down."
"That's my girl."

------

An hour later, with her lipstic done and a dress on, Mary Malone walked into the Blue Moon Cafe, Jerry Jones was at her side. Beside him walked a tall man, he carried a violin case.

"Relax Mary, none of the guys here would turn me in. We're all friends."

"There's a price on your head Jones, a bigger one than any. Men kill for money like that."

"True, but they won't turn me in. I'm too good for that."

Applause sounded as the trio walked up to the stage. The announcer called their names, and cheers errupted from the audience. Everyone loved Jones, he was a favorite, a hero. Mary sighed, Jerry was right. No one would ever turn him in.

Letting the crowd's enthusiasm swell within her, Mary bannished her fears to the back corner of her mind. Tommorow she would worry, tonight she would dance.

Buffalo gals won't ya come out to-night, come out to-night, come out to-night

Buffalo gals won't you come out to-night and we'll dance by the light of the moon

I danced with a gal with a hole in her stocking

And her knees was a-knockin'

and her shoes was a'rockin'

I danced with a gal with a hole in her stocking

And we danced by the light of the moon.

Time To Go

"You can't make me go Mama, you just can't." Cindy yells as she walks out the door. "I don't want to go. All the other girls hate me, you should see them Mama! They're beautiful and smart and skinny, rich and white. Everything we're not. Everything I'll never be. I'm not going!"
"Oh yes you are." Mama says, "I saved up to send you to a respectable school with good teachers who will teach you what you need to know. No child of mine refuses a good education. Don't you do this to me, not now, not after..." Mama's voice trails of, as if she can't say what she needs to. She pushes Cindy's lunchbox into her hands and lifts her onto the bus. "Now go, have a nice day."
Mama should be smiling, like she does when she takes me to school, but she isn't. Tears are shining in her eyes. She turns to look at me, but it's like her eyes don't see anything, like she's looking through me. Then she walks into the house.
Mama doesn't hold the door open for me. She just walks inside and sits down at the table. Then she holds her head in her hands and cries, the tears splashing onto the table cloth.
'Mama,' I say 'Mama, don't cry, you'll ruin your best table cloth. The one that daddy gave to you.'
But she doesn't hear me. So I walk over to where she is sitting. I put one of my small, dark hands on her hair.
'Mama,' I whisper, stroking her hair, 'Mama, don't cry, you don't need to cry anymore. I'm here for you.'
But she doesn't pull me up onto her lap the way she normally would, she doesn't even look at me with her warm brown eyes. She just turns the other way. She walks to the small medicine cabinet and pulls out a cigar. Once it is lit, I try to talk to her again. Mama is always more happy when she has a cigar.
'Mama.' I whisper, 'Mama, what's wrong?'
I walk to her and reach up to put my arms around her. They still don't wrap all the way round her tummy. She doesn't hug me back.
I stroke her arms, and reach up to touch her cheek, but Mama looks the other way, out the window and at the gray rain. She walks to the rocking chair and sits down. Rocking back and forth, back and forth singing a song that she sings when she tucks me in at night.
'Mama,' I say softly, 'When I'm old enough to go to school, I'll go wherever you tell me to. And I won't get mad at you. I'll be a good son. I'll make you happy, Mama, I promise I will.'
But Mama doesn't stop singing. She just closes her eyes and rocks back and forth back and forth. When the song ends, another tear rolls down her cheek.
"My baby," she whispers, "Oh my Antony, my sweet, precious child. What will I do without you?"
'Mama?' I cry, 'Mama, what do you mean 'without me?' Mama, I'm right here, I'll never leave you! Never!'
"But you're not here." A rich voice says from behind me. A tall man is standing there, his arms are open wide. He smiles at me. "It's time to go Antony, it's time for you to leave. This isn't the place for you anymore."
'Then where is the place for me mister?' I ask. 'Where are you taking me, I want to stay with my Mama. I have to protect her, see?'
"I'll make you a deal," The man says, smiling. "I'll stay here to protect your mama, and you can go on ahead of me. And when the time comes for her to join us. I'll bring her safely to you."
'But where am I going?' I say, 'I can't go somewhere I don't know.'
"But you do know Antony." The man smiles again, his smile is comforting, "everybody knows. It's time Antony. Time for you to go to Jesus."
'Can I say goodbye?'
"Take your time."
I walk over to Mama, and reach my hands up to give her one last hug. My arms still don't wrap all the way round her tummy, and now, they never will.