On A Flat Stone

If I wrote your name on a flat stone and threw it into a field wildflowers would grow bees would hum hummingbirds would glide birds would walk a little slower If I threw it across a lake it would dance to the other side popping each bubble it encountered and settle on the other shore waiting for a return flight If I buried it under a black walnut tree lava would stop and compass point the gibbous moon would hide what was left of her face clouds would laugh burst and cry All this because your name was written on a sun-warmed flat stone once held in the palm of my heart and tossed away.

#38

Should I coolly cascade up the stairs
and meet him.

Should I throw down our faces
and our wits
or should I not.

Should I buy the beer
and frost a heart
as one would a glass.

Should I sift the sawdust
for the diamonds that lay there.

Should my elbow be more
mahogany than bone.

Should she behind the bar
know my eyes and my limit.

Should I pass
to the rest room
flush the handled john
even though it wasn’t used.

Should I eat
with napkin folded in my lap

Should I palm the spoon.

Should I slip the peas into my sleeve.

I am afraid to smile
as I might be a crocodilian thing
and my laugh
a howl at the moon.

Will I shake his hand.
I think that I could not.

How could I be so bronze
when all my blood is hot wax
my ankles so well turned.

How might I enjoin a man
that sings a melody
I once hummed.

How should I tie my shoes
be clean as a new ass.
Oh, should I or
should I not.

How could I meet him
and not
hold her hand to long.

Lean

“To thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.” – William Shakespeare

Best to defy
gravity
If you are going to
defy anything.

Start with levitation
work on walking
on water
not making wine.

If you can defy gravity
einstein is an eccentric
who wore the same clothes
and rode a bike.

You ride don’t you?
Peddle faster.

Fix a gear
as you would a star
straight on till morning
wake in a never land
where broken eggs are healed
by ne’er-do-wells.

Strings hang only pictures
not pulled to advantage
or cut before they can become
cords.

Lean, lean, lean
into it.

Put your nose to the stone.

Put your back into it.

Leap from the pan
into the fire
never be a pot
for lightnings sake.

How else could scads
of scaled wings
the size of stamps
fly thousands of miles
and land on flowers
and imagination.

Handstands & Other Feats by C.Z. Vasser