Carnival Child

i find myself
more oft than not
playing the part
of a barker

in a circus tent
rigged with lollipop poles
up-holding a canvas of
princess pink

spreading my arms
hoping to distract the few
at a show
with but one attraction

the Man ruled
a schedule be kept to
behold the coveted
prize

saturdays and sunday afternoons
are good
how about a longer show
for wednesday nights?

regardless the toll
it takes
on the precious thing
how tired she has become

one ticket?
or two?
what price is perfect
for this once bundle of joy?

all the care is
left to us
the raising and the
feeding and discipline

so that the thankless show-goers and
their vicious, well-fed
bar dogs can lap
up a win

i can shout
to the tops of
the tent poles
and no one will hear

my voice muted
by the applause of
the ignorant
crowd

clowns all
who brought with
them their own
cold cage

to take from me
the one thing
i was forced to lead
into this ring

i'm just a barker
now, that's all
made hoarse
for all that fruitless yelling

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blind wander

i am stung for
not knowing
but still wander down
a path that
ends in a certain
calamity

against the
testimony of
friends and
family
who whisper failure
and know not my heart

there's is
an act
of moral
usury
lending love
at an unreasonable rate

mine
on the face
is a
foolish withdrawal
against insufficient
funds

i do
against don'ts
more than
i should:
call it my
prodigal path

knowing
and not
knowing
is separated by
a thin
want

to go singly afoot
upon a broken
forest row
that breathes a
whispy air of
defeat

feels better
than being
blown with
all those other leaves
down a cold street
on a sunny day

my loves
do not abide
your own prejudices
against
those who travel
blind deliberately

they still see
with eyes closed
what they seek
and travel
toward the same
pitching sea

listening
and not listening
but not uncaring
leave them
to their
sails

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no good night

because the man decreed
from a bench
we watched
you go off
for the first time

it's only
an overnight
we say
to ourselves
not forever

yet we wander
around our home
looking for things to
keep the mindwolves
at bay

supper
homework
a blister
Alex Trebek
What is Montpelier?

avoiding the
silences
in the walls
and the vacant
echo in the floors

we
have come to
be addicted to
the sounds
of you

a day is just another
to all others
when the fall
comes
to other lovers

and stones descend
from the
sky on
someone else's
head

there is no
good night
when the warmth
of a child
goes missing

this night
a shuffle of
poorly
written
dreams

that poke
at the backs
of the eyes
while the ears
swear they hear you

this lost limb
a bleating lamb
and the heart pumps
blood to the child
in a different bed

i keep looking for the baby
says the woman
who knows the
smell of you better
than anyone

i saw you
birthed
the blood and the
mess that came
with you

that makes
me yours
not theirs
i only covet
what i love

the man behind
the bench
has children too
did he have
to wave goodbye like me?

i will not
sleep before
liars
nor wake
without her

no good night
comes from
the absence of
a child's
kiss

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