Tower on the prairie.
I can see you from a mile a way.
Like a giant
The tiles of color in my coffee cup holder
The weight of hot liquid held in my mouth
Is it sad
That I have to exercise myself artificially
To compensate for the evolutionary course of nature
We have destroyed?
Or is another example that confirms we are all God in drag
Walking around the parking lot
Driving ourselves to the gym
Making people laugh
Paying people to make us laugh
Rock in our mothers arms
Paying others to rock us
Take a brief moment to look at this floor
Feel the countless claws of dreams that have dragged across it
Kicking and screaming
Loving and encouraging
The heavy machinery of our lives and all the marks that it makes
Every tissue and napkin and plastic fork
They are all little bricks in the dream wall.
Use them thoughtfully
Send each one out into the world like a mother sea line
Hold your little seal-pup-used-applesauce-container
close to your warm beating heart
Then let it go.
(This poem was originally recited at The Tree Bar on October 11, 2014 in Columbus, OH)