Poetry

I should not be afraid 
Of wind-blown branches 
Or crashing planes

So shrieks the machine: 
“Treasure! Treasure’s here, just below!” 
A spade plunges into turf

All I need to know is that

The veil is thin 
Between Earth and Sky 
Beneath my back, outstretched

I want to do everything
 He said
 Not realizing how impossible that was
 In the space of one lifetime

Listen: 
This stuff needn’t be so dour

What if 
Happiness was accidental

Just 
An idea 
Says the treehouse book 
On the bathroom rug

A failed body 
Thus interred 
Into a vault of carven stone

One foot Another