Blank Page Experiment (BB)

Part One…
Their color gives direction
But their absence leaves a block
Babies blue lines they have left me
Blocking blue lines hiding behind locks

There they hide
Outside my door that I scrape
Hiding with my pen, stealing all of my ink

The walls are my page
White walls with white lines
With curtains made from the dress of my deceased bride
The same curtains that steal all my sunlight
These are the curtains that make a young man blind
This is the page that defies being scribed


Part Two…
A man’s gone mad with anger and rage
From being locked in these walls with nothing but this blank page
A mind full of matter but empty hands and empty paper
It cries for my blood and asks of my sins
The blank page writes on me
In red it writes, ‘The End’.

The City Center pt. II (Washtenaw)

I don’t care of the trees they grow
Or the grass they mow and lay
I wish for the trees to grow this way and cover the hills where the houses are built

Their fruits are nice
But a different color than those grown by the will of the moon and sun
Their strawberries were nourished by light, but not the light of God

For when I travel to their countries and the sides of their city
The sun shines but the dirt does not glow
It smells not of animal, and their crops in unnatural rows

Give me weeds with flowers
Flowers with fruit and bees with their honey to pollinate
I’ve seen green, but your fresh leaves are not.

The City Center pt. I (Washington)

Where the weeds lead to forest I will trail blaze a path Weaving between great oaks I’ll follow deer tracks In the heartbeat of earth I will build my nest Great timber for walls And fern for my bed I shovel a pathway for visitors who may stumble this way A dozen footprints that invite them to stay A swing from the trees to invite them to play And my bed made of ferns where their tired may lay
For 6 years I’ll grow out here I’ll weather the winter and branch out from my plot I’ll trap my hare and shoot my deer But stay away from my great grizzly neighbors.  I crafted a map to find my way out For 6 years I stayed, but just 2 weeks did I count My beard became the length of a 3 year old tree Signaling my time to leave The cities are strange, they’re stranger than me But to the city I’ll walk, before it comes to me Washington is far, but I’ll be there in a week I wont care about my place, but they wont touch its surroundings.