I laugh, but in admiration

The kid walks up to the projector in his baggy t-shirt and glasses, staggers to a halt at the front of the classroom, looks confidently toward the board.

He points definitively at the shape, and says matter-of-factly

This is a piece of Pizza
Here's the crust
(as he rushes excitedly for the words, running out of breath)
and this
(the square)
is the pineapple
and these
(the triangles)
are the pieces of
Canadian bacon.

But you need to describe it in terms of shapes, the teacher scolds wearily.

That's true. But I cling to the hope
that minds like this will not be tamed,
for it's apparent to me
that ideas drive progress
and that the creative perception
of a single third-grader
can contribute greatly to that
so-often elusive quality
the Good.

a quick note just to tell you

You are sunshine.
You are the rolling pastures
prelude to the mountains
And as we ride our bicycles
over the dirt path
Sunflowers brushing 'gainst
our bare arms
your silver bracelets jangle
the wind chimes.

You are this perfect day
and when the moonlight falls
you will be the solace of the night.

Finding Tranquility

She didn't know how long she rode on that bus, on a cracked upholstered seat, because a few glimpses through the hazy window lulled her into a delicate sleep. She woke at the jolt of the brakes, as by the pinnacle of clockwork, although it was the only stop.

She murmured a thank you to the passivity of the driver and stepped into the cloud of fog blanketing the rain-trodden earth.

She sat by the river, contemplating the face of abstraction that is the world, as the mist clung heavily to the air and the rain began to fall through the ethereal screen that separated the seen from the unseen, the known from the unknown, the felt and the sensed, and she clung wildly to her dreams manifested in the peace around her, the solace of that spirited place.

There was an infectious energy that she knew to be that spark of vitality, she could feel her own natural inclination toward ease, in being in tune with the subtle act of living, so blatantly passionate in its subtlety, and it was a dream, and she was finally right.

People

Why are people so hopelessly restrained
Giving meaningless justifications
as if all our prior words have been feigned
Flaming my temper, trying my patience

Why do they retreat into their dark caves
Hiding from the grand adventure that 'waits
It's too risky to live; to love, to be brave
So they trounce inspiration, beckon fate

They paint in rosy hues but see in gray
Flatten their 'dentities, become living ghosts
Live for one and throw the world away
Lose the mountain key when hope is very most

Life's too short to live in passionate lack
Throw yourself out there and the world comes back.

Happy 20th to my sister muse, with warmth of heart.

Shall I spin a tale for the birthday girl?
For the most vibrant ardente ginger?
Nah; it's more catching glimpse her fleeting twirl
Hopping cross oceans, bright lands she conjures.

Unfortunately tonight's not the case-
Finals bring dreary ag'nizing grounding
But 'las- imagination paints a place
We sit on the edge of L'Italy and sing.

I love Paris in the Rain, I love Par
'is in the rain, cause when it rains and rains
We 'change words as lucky parcels rare
Awaiting the moment to board the train

For there's a world out there we'll inspire-
Together we shall spark the brilliant fire.

<3

Beethoven once said

"Don't only practice your art
but force your way into its secrets
for it and knowledge
can raise men to the divine."

music

sits under my eyelids

basks 'cross the windowsill

warm

stretching round the notes

of a yesterday already gone

melodies glance off windowpanes

filling the air

colors

soar through drizzling rain

lighting the skies

with vigor.

A vitality

throbs

a  pulse

disposition perhaps?

sweeping 

falling

so sweet it hurts

up

down

time counts the pendulum

from the pole of the universe

the sky darkens

but the vivid cannot

indefinitely live in shadow

all will be victorious

when time decides

inevitable, that

all-encompassing joy

yearning hearts collide

in that wonderful wash of sound.

I guarantee

your life is beautiful

when Beethoven's the narrator.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJ_fkw5j-t0

'tis a new year

What better way to spend it
than the slopes
in frigid air
exhaling clouds
bindings ache
but at a certain point
in the late afternoon
that doesn't matter.
There is no fear
just us
and the mountain
flying by
a mad rush
exhilaration
as the space between
us and the bottom
closes up.
We have cinnamon fried
chicken,
then drive through
the night,
making our one
stop at a farm,
watch the light show,
lit-up candy canes,
Christmas trees,
nativity scenes,
we drive through
glowing arches
and are
once again
enveloped
by the music
as the dragon-eyed
moon sees us
the way to home.