castle

My mind's a messy bedroom,
and I don't know where to start
when it comes to climbing through
the cluttered chambers of my heart.

I tiptoe through the trash heap.
To function, I must ignore the piles
that grow bigger, louder by the day
'til they scream and stretch for miles.

I cover myself with clothing
that's been picked up off the floor.
"It's okay," I tell a wrinkled shirt.
"I've been there many times before."

My mind's a messy bedroom
I don't want anyone to see.
My heart's a dungeon of indecision,
my body both beauty and beast.

A chattering enchanted castle,
teeming with sentient, out-of-place pieces
longing to be lifted
from their spells, to be set in their places.

The spells are always lurking,
so if you see me in a wrinkled shirt,
please ask me how I'm doing,
if I trust you, I might offer a tour

of my mind, that messy bedroom
and my heart, that prison cell.
Could you possibly find a princess
in this crazy, cluttered castle?

premiere

It's not on the tip of my tongue.
It's not obvious, like a drum.
Quiet feet start to tap
and my mind starts to hum
that shapeless song, the prospective poem.

The trance ends when you walk in the room.
Our mouths speak but our hearts are on mute.
Leave me 'lone for a while,
in my home, on an isle,
and the poem will quickly resume.

It's not the American Dream,
It's a walk in the woods, two tired feet in a stream.
It's swimming in sadness
that no one can see.
I follow the poem to the bottom of me.

Will you ever be able to follow me here?
Will you ever break down these tall fences of fear?
I keep taking it slow,
I don't know, I don't know.
In the end, all I've got is a poem to premiere.