Can Kittens Fly

probably one of my favorite written pieces...i still get lost in its organic form and ability to conform to reality yet be lost in enigma.It is another glimpse from my past , of old friends, and old loves....of journeys, people, taste , sound and smells. I read it again a few days ago , half a decade after i first wrote it. Somewhere in these confused, searching lines i found pieces of me...lost pieces, forgotten parts, but mostly it was homecoming for a young adult very nostalgic about his childhood.


The light on your hard hair; is the silk caught in their waves, or am I floating above your lap? Five seconds. Two ago, my head was beneath them, maybe over them? Could be silent mist which crept through had entered my mind. Brilliance of a mountain stream or the flash of your brown iris?

Tomorrow night. The pub burnt with yesterday's feathers roasted over the slow fire of cigarette and cole slaw. The dead branch splintered beneath autumn. Today sighs in happiness, locked beneath the wine cellar. Caught in the golden thread, of wise drops of reality. Were you naked under the pines? Or is that the moon of October weaving tears into starlight?

Blue. Caught below the point of reeds. The lake, maybe a vehicle into stillness, overbearing, the ripples into mud. A family torn apart. Five limbs cut into ten to build the lake a friend. Ten generations lost in two strokes of fire. Father, where are you? My coffee mug broke across the sky, feeling your touch. Yet you never touched my feeling?

Sands swept away. Why did a cube have six faces, but only one body? Life grew upon my shoulder;above the straw that the maid brought in. Sugar and grapes grew on my fingers. They must go on. Thursday evening Jamie brought home an amber kitten and a violin. Can kittens fly? Ask the next rainbow when you dust the rain, from the light kept over your smile.

Laugh. Wild horses singing to the North Wind. Dark legs breaking through motion, green emeralds beneath their broad toes, alive yet wishing to die. Three children died yesterday, a car, electric blue, blood, a pink hair band and last month's sunshine. Can I kiss you, reality? Why are 'nows' so rare? The moment we feel one come up to us, it becomes a 'then'. Metamorphosis. Maybe the kid next door would know. He has had cerebral palsy and the wheelchair is his best friend. Blue eyes, smoked hair, lip-gloss over his right cheek. His Mom kissed him there day before; forgot the soap yesterday. He would know 'now'. He's had so many of 'thens' playing hop and skip beneath his wheels. His ambition : to become Michael Jordan. Are you Tom Thumb or maybe Jack? Has the beanstalk reached the sky? Maybe too many fertilizers. Orange skies are brighter than the swallowtail I had last summer. Yet can it dream?

Chocolates stewed over charcoal fire. Remember the last time I loved you? Eyeliner over your warm body. I drew Mickey Mouse on your arm, you called him your sweetheart. In South America a three year old got a semi automatic as a birthday gift. Five million hectares of virginity raped in 365 days. Are you still my own? Can you breathe into whiskey mixed with blood? Or am I a dreamer born of sentiment below the scent of jasmine and you broken knee? You're life, my life. Can you love me? The Benz you drive has made me ten years younger. Yet the years seem to have grown old.

I will walk beneath your sky. The fisherman you loved, he ran away. Russell, his son, cancer loved him. Affection on your part, it melts away like rancid butter. You jump up on the net I bought for mosquitoes. You can't fish with it. Are you alive? No joke. It seems the neon light on the drugstore shone on the torn wrapper of a sex gum. It stuck a nation together, respect it. A wolf carried away my dream. Poor thing was starving. At least it ate a dream, not a bullet.

Will you sleep tonight? It's too cold to open the window. My hair feels like Saturday's spent together, yet away and far. Do you love the waterfall, the torn sock, and my goodbye kiss? Can worlds be born of impotent men who believe in running races against a lame hare, and a silver tortoise? It's up to you. Both lose.
The lollipop in your cheek is sweeter than truth. Yet it costs so less. Which do you want to buy? My love or the lighted panorama of the carnival? Where you do the cabaret and I shout obscenities. Deserve the cake I baked for you. I warmed it over my love and burnt my little finger. Tear up last year's promise, I still love you. Now is all you are. Then is what you can never be.