When I’m Alone

The Clipper Ship Blue Jacket On Choppy SeasAm I Schrodinger’s cat locked in a coffin that I can’t see?

Am I my own imagination come to life or who others want to see?

Am I an earthquake that shakes the foundation of your beliefs?

Am I the whirlwind that’s met with cautious alacrity?

Am I so enigmatic I am hidden even from myself?

Am I a magician’s assistant that performs with infuriating stealth?

Who am I when there’s nobody around to witness me?

Am I just a wanderer piloting my ship on the popped blue collar sea?

I really dig

I really dig that when I open up my blog reader

I find people-y readers lurking about, liking this or that.

I really dig that when I peer back through the shop window

the readers grunt, groan, lust, hug, love and hate like I do.

I really dig that when I peer through the looking glass

I don’t find my readers slumped sleeping in side-chairs.

I really dig that they poke fingers to keys while:

drinking coffee

popping pills

drinking bourbon

honoring artists

dancing with desires for origami people on paper they will print.

I really dig that the people I don’t know by face

stare back at me as we travel, passing on our reader’s train.

I really dig when we arrive at the same destination of personal truth.

Because that’s when the shit gets real.

Spirit Tribe, I call you

Artist: Jenica "Hen" Fredrickson A member of my Spirit Tribe heeded my call.

Artist: Jenica “Hen” Fredrickson
A member of my Spirit Tribe heeded my call.

Spirit Tribe, I call to you with the words of a starving human
I am greedy for your attention to my withering roots
Water me with your colors spilling freely
Reach out with your own inspiration
That is begging release from drought.
Wrap yourself in a wet paper towel
That offers just enough moisture for you
To find me clinging to the smallest sprinkle
Of disconnection from your creativity
From that bond that unites the visionaries
Because of our hidden tendencies to obscure
Our innermost desires to run naked
Through the streets covered in kaleidoscopes
Spirit Tribe, I beckon you forth from your dream-world
I am but a pool reduced to a drop, withering
Spring forth with your overflow to spread unhindered
Release your inhibitions so that you may find what you seek
Let me spill my ideas, beliefs, fanaticism on you
Like hot coffee or iced tea that brings deepest refreshment
Put on your brightest clothing without fear
That builds up your unique version of yourself
Into full fruition. Seek and you will find me
Waiting for the touch of your brush on the canvas
Believing in your mastery of your own vision
Twirling like a dervish to the music we’ll create
With words and paints and sounds unheard and unheeded
Disregarded by those who can’t see the world as we do
Dismissed by the gardeners as weeds to be pulled
From a society that at its best is ugly with stained beliefs
But at its best is a tribute to resilience, tolerance, and power.
Spirit Tribe, I beat my drum to hail your arrival
My confetti sits untouched in a bucket by my door
Waiting to shower you with praises for your bravery
Longing for your belief in yourself to find its way to me
Believing that every feeling you can create into tangibility
Is a gift that’s been wrapped for too long as an unsent package
Knowing that I will gladly accept you as my own
Because we already understand the ways of things
We already “get” the planes, shapes, patterns, styles
And we can’t help but feel lost because there are no ties
That bind us to the material plane when we are free to be
Who we are with abandoned shadows stepping into the light
Open your floodgates, remove the starvation for your beauty
Evaporate my longing for our bonding in the name of art
Come, my Spirit Tribe. Heed my call and come.