song of there

the melody of broken grass
weeping trees
and beaming blooms
of thoughtful pines
sparkling waters
and the scent of old becoming new
what a beautiful song it makes

take me away
to where the flowers sing
and trees whisper secrets long untold
into my ear
where babbling brooks tell tales
of every thing that has passed by
and pines and aspens argue aloud
but they're really friends deep down

i want to go there
away from this place
where the song is muted
the beautiful song set
spinning into motion by the hand of God
at creation
i cannot hear it from here

but if not that
then i wish, in place of the first
to be taught the song of this place
so that i can sing it, too
along with the rest of men

knife in hand

i woke up this morning with a knife in my hand

i walk down the hallway
they talk
i smile back
and nod
and that is all

i woke up and looked at the knife in my hand
where did it come from?

i am lost wherever i go
nowhere is home
everywhere is unknown
no one seems to follow me
maybe it is the wrong way

i realized today that i walk with a knife in hand
where did it come from?
i don't know

i am dreaming
with my eyes open
everything moves
but i do not
i am frozen in place
a terrible dream

i woke up this morning with a knife in my chest
where did it come from?
i don't know
i am afraid to ask
so i won't