It’s not the pull of

green, the cathedral embracing

this highway that

magnets me forward

but the idea of open sky

calling through turns as

I travel this patchwork of pavement,

a message of might-be’s and

perhaps-es, a promise of

place outside/above these

earth-bound, hard-ground wheels,

reminding me of Somewhere Else

I’d rather be–a shore, a porch,

a bench–notes rising over

stoplights, across lanes

beyond the travelers,

singing me far away~

so I fly.


Gossamer Faith

Sir spider suspended,
but for the invisible
jarring of his aerial
does it frighten him
to be held by
strength he cannot see,
to scuttle across the
sky, limb to leaf
knowing the opposite
end could detach in a blink?
Still he spins in space
hovers in my way
’til I swat him down
and lament, “My God to have 
                         the faith of a spider.”

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