Most say be good.
Some say go bad.
I think be woods
And sky and glad
To turn to stone
Or squeaky creek
Or even bone
Or something beaked.
Be shining star.
Be pouring rain.
Be what you are
And you again!
Forget the fads
If you so dare
To pass good bad
I’ll see you there.

Bleve chopped down a tree
For she had to see
What it was below the bark,
That quietest of secret sparks,
That grew this steady, leafy beast
Around which wild things increased.
(Plus she’d heard of hidden rings.
There might be many treasured things.)
Tree fell from birds to worms
And Bleve couldn’t come to terms.
She cried sky-falling storms,
So scared at what she’d earned.
Her own heart scowled and turned,
Oh, how it cracked and burned!
Another lesson too late learned.
She stood on stump in tears
As days fell down to years,
The seasons volunteered
To wipe away her fears
Till at last the trees were peers.
If you can hold your disbelief
I’ll keep this nice and brief –
Bleve grew a twig, she grew a leaf,
She grew out of her killing grief
With roots deep in the great relief
Of having woods as caring chief.

Drent poured his brain into the creek,
A twinkling jack-o-lanting leak,
Then dumped himself into his head
And tippled that out too.
He wove himself as azure thread
Through scarred sea’s blanket blue.
Drent’s self is down in deep sea bed,
He’s in the waves, ‘neath each ship’s crew,
He’s just a drop but still unique
And may be joined if you so seek.

Who made the first smile?
Who felt it worthwhile
To push in their chips
On lifting up lips
And lifted our lives
In the wisest surprise.

What’s the next smile?
Who’ll be the child
Finding something inside
That refuses to hide,
No, won’t be denied,
Indeed, needs to go wide.

What do you think?
Are you on the brink
Of putting feelings in ink
With some world wonking wink
Building a soul bridging link
In the eye of a blink.

How wolfishly wild
To dawn the next smile.

I left a smile on the corner
For you or him or her.
I took the ones they gave me,
The crooked and the wavy,
The terrible, the gleaming,
Even the smuggish seeming
And scattered them in places
They might brighten up some faces.
Sure, I held them for a while,
These toothy, charming smiles,
I know I was never owner,
A smiler’s a donor
Of some joyful little bits
Of them bursting out in fits.
But allow me to be blunt –
Please don’t smile if you don’t want.
I’m not here to steal
Some smile you don’t feel.
Was “steal” the word I wrote?
Let’s not rush to quote!
I give for every one I get!
Sure, I may admit,
I might hold them for a night,
But I say it’s only right!
Okay, I messed up, I’m on trial.
Will you forgive me for a smile?

Drawn by BMT whose work can be found here.

I don’t know.
I don’t know why or when or where or what
Or how or who or and or but.
I play and live and learn and stuff.
It’s mostly loads of toads and fluff.
Folks focus on the wrongest things
And say that I should too.
I don’t know.
Do you?
I say we go
Not knowing nothing more than
We’re together,
The end.

When I play at fireman
I take it very serious,
Because you know a fire can
Flame up fairly furious.

“I’ll save you all!”
Went my fiery cry
As I put out the lights in the hall
And every other twinkling that even thought to fry.

“I went a little overboard,”
Is a phrase I’ll never say.
I wield my waggish water sword
Like there’s a dragon in my way.

“Safety first, second and third!”
I sprayed down phones and the TV,
Then saw how their eyes burned
And rained down on them the sea.

With one more fire extinguished
They’d had all the saving they could take,
And gave me an honor most distinguished –
They threw me in the lake.

Most people put
The world ‘neath their foot
Without another thought.

But Plumlo would not
Let himself get caught
Not caring ’bout all that land lost.

Such a terrible cost
To be so sadly self-tossed
Out of the world at your feet.

A horrid defeat
To never once meet
Most of all that there is.

Young Plumlo saw his
Whole world as a quiz
On how to win his way in.

He dreamed of a cave in,
To go full mole-raven,
Winging his way through stone skies.

You’re not surprised
He pried into his prize
By way of his will and a spoon.

He still peeks at the moon
But he’d be a loon
To bury world back underfoot.

And out the door she went
To find her way to what that meant,
No looking back ‘cept glancing at
Wig wagging tail that gave the hint
That all was right, life right well spent,
Knocking on and down all doors they sent
To put her looking out instead of in,
She unlocked herself to their lament,
And opened up in all events,
Letting through another marveled malcontent

– A moment for her wonderment! –

And out the door she went