Imagination – A Thread You Follow

Imagination Remains

The kings and queens of willful destruction
carry burning scythes in their hands,
reaping where they did not sow.

Each blesses the other as the other
squashes fruits grown by others.

Expectations lower for the in-crowd.

Those thrown out of the concocted garden
know only the misery of the absence of love.

While the culture of artifice and pretense and posturing
demands acquiescence with thundering crescendos,
another voice, even though all looks grim, 
sings a simple melody, heard only when the waters calm.

There may not be grapes on the vine today
but the landscape of imagination remains.

A Magic Beanstalk

Imagine a magic beyond the beanstalk,
God bouncing between a burning bush 

     - Can God bounce let alone burn in a bush? -
     at the periphery of vision and to a place,

a place of vision ending at the edge
surrounding a fire shut up in the bones.

    Throw me a bone fired from the hip
    and I will show you a hole the size of...

Well, a hole the size of Rhode Island
where you can drive an elephant through,

     through and throw confetti while driving,
     falling into open hands grasping, failing.

All hands fall at the end failing to grasp
the magic beanstalk beyond imagination.

Imagine Gentleness

"Imagine," I said, "a nature walk
with no restrictions and no boundaries."

She added, "And no signs placed 
on poorly marked pathways
demanding, Keep Off The Grass."

I said, "And to stroll with a new cadence
and an extraordinary rhythm and energy."

She added, "Though not all of us 
are as skilled as Epimenides
in the ways of the gods."

I offered, "All the more reason to save
my tears for saving daughters."

She said, "Remember: Let your 
gentleness be known to everyone."