The Spiral Bridge

now i see batman in the sky: 
the truth, a thing of mind, and eye, 
wraps all around this thing called time 
and leads me to a cooler clime, 

where once was stronger hope (and less) --  
the brave one, full with fecklessness, 
who climbed the spiral bridge to find 
that peace is but a piece of mind -- 

but you, my friend, you know things small: 
that life, while crazy after all, 
is sweet and low and sharp and high, 
and why we're half-parts earth 

and sky

The One That Wasn’t

She traveled the low, and dreamed of the peaks. 
Searching always her tribe, finding only their cliques,
She began to think, maybe, the problem was her:
For solutions just were not as advertised.

In the heat of the fall, in the cold of the spring,
She banked nothing and all on almost everything,
Was she neurodivergent, or just immature?
For the world seemed a little surprised

To find her as she was, or perhaps, as she wasn't:
Our do's and our will's do not fit one who doesn't --
And the moon still looks lonely to she-the-unsure,
The allure of just what wasn't



The morning wanders like a duck 
who carries on the morning dew
a conversation with his watch
that radiates in a.i. fashion
every livid film review
irate at remakes: poor, expensive,
full of flimsy badinage:
fearing flood and fight and fire,
all the things in our garage
that you and I once meant for choosing
now neglected, nevermore,
paradoxical unfurling
rich and wide and golden door --
unrelated, unrepentant,
unenthusiastic muse:
every love that you rejected
is now today the life you choose