rising to the occassion

giving in to output economies competing with birds for pecking order
inserting seeds in earthworm inches stretching chances like smiles across 60-year-old fences standing stubbornly tall in the night
I want Banksy to paint a window to paradise on your walled arms
graffiti on your guts like the colors of the red line blurred past your rusting memory of singers and springs
I have sandpaper hands and a woodworking brother
let’s talk to the night and ask for a massage
bring aching knees back to life to shuffle once more
let your feet not be weary
twenty three thousand steps to get here now is not the time to stumble
walk with purpose
queens can go far in any direction and it’s not limited to the surface so dive head first into city blocks, school yards, and winding backroads like they were handmade bags for your dreams
let us open them together and break the seams apart simply for the sake of liberation
can you see it?

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