Sometimes
just to feel the heart beat
I perch upon
the highest cloud
in the middle of a violet-stained sky
over the city
I grew my poetry bone
jump with my head turned sideways
hit the ground running
until my lungs
are full of feeling
and my eyes
are bloodshot from
draining the pulse of mediocrity
working out of my veins
because it is such a sorry suffocation

Sometimes
just to dream
I have to arm wrestle
with an idea
curl my lip
as if I am trying
look to the sky
just fallen from
count all the pretty ones
still cursing my name
tongues still wet
with unfinished poems
angels spitting regrets
it doesn’t take much
for an idea
to pin me down.

And when its time
to hold magic
of so many years
by the collar
and kick its ass
through whatever
heavenly gates
broken through
they will say I lived
a thousand years
and meant it
before cutting a deal
just for the experience.
with whoever
was waiting
first in line