Its to late for vegetables
For its nutrients to slip,
For a broken hip season used
To be the reason,
Now tepid is the treason I
Live in—a soft cucumber was
Never the Nineveh messenger,
The hidden asunder under the
Storms of Poseidon,
I was never in for safety,
I just said yes in pain,
And never did try to stay the
Same, sun was always behind
Me, stapled shut was the light,
The trash bags on the window
Edge, on the sea’s kedge,
On the shallow anchor of
The bible belt, on the soft
Felt words that don’t change
Me—vegetable living is the
Hardest of realities, the worst
Of all tragedies, for gray hairs
Have now grown for this life
That I have sown—tears and
Pain in this Hollywood terrain—
I will not quit in seeking the
Deep things, but I will not stay
In the fun zone of games,
And the terrain of safety that
Is called a better place to be—
Deception is never bold letters
But a form with no power—
A scrapbook for the scraps–
I had encountered that purity
Talk once then it left when
All those airwaves changed,
When these bright eyes
Got colluded by the pieces
Called a gift, called for later,
Called for with that special
Moment,

But one thing is true,
Vegetables don’t do it,
Their shapes and faces
As depth does fall away from
Us, from our kids,
Noah to know you one day,
Depth to the deep places of your
Smile that touches me so deep,
I will do what I can to not let you
Not live just like everyone else—
Love is not safe,
Is not a vegetable,
Is not shiny on the outside
But essential when it peels
Back—I am not into that,
I can’t explain how it seems
Its edges just paint around me—
Shallow is the valley around me—
Deep cries, deep consumes,
Love and pain seem to never
Be separated