Shadows of seagulls
soaring overhead
offer no respite
from the glaring sun above.
You could fry an egg
on the asphalt by mid-morning.
Despite reapplying,
by 1 o’clock
I’m scarlet like
perfectly cooked lobster —
If only someone
would crack me open.
But molting will take time
I wear my sun-dried shell
because I have no choice
but to be myself.
Today I glow,
but not with health.
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Soaring on
streams of consciousness.
I’m speaking up
speaking up —
even if you’re not tuned-in.
Haven’t you heard?
I’m broadcasting
so that one way
or another
we’ll find each other.
I’ll spread the word.
Come dusk
we’ll find a spot
with great acoustics,
and sing our hearts out.
I’m speaking up,
speaking up,
because I have a voice.
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When you have what you need
you live in abundance.
Like clockwork,
we move,
shed, molt,
go dormant
and emerge anew,
something ventured,
something gained
and something left behind.
To sow and reap,
you must
slash and burn,
you must preen and prod
and above all else,
you must stay diligent.
Unceremonious
we cast aside the chaff,
the husks and hulls —
our daily bread’s
last line of defense.
Nothing is redundant.
Time isn’t always borrowed,
it can be rented,
or invested,
or leveraged.
In boomtimes and busts
harvest arrives,
whether you’re ready
or withered on the vine.
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Unfortunately,
there are some instances where
bending and breaking
can’t be avoided —
so try to be flexible.
To best thrive,
in your environment,
you may need to shift
your position.
The only way
to be in two places at once
is to split in half,
and no one wants that.
Be honest with yourself,
when you need to adjust.
The pushes and pulls
take their toll,
but a bend or a sway,
at the end of the day
means you’re still standing.
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Games of telephone
only rarely end in fistfights
despite the breakdowns in communication.
Wherever the goal posts slide too,
just have faith your teammate
won’t fumble —
then upon receipt,
so help you God,
shoot straight.
It’s a game of inches,
where the slightest errors
accumulate
and slowly send your statement
careening off course.
How quickly we forget
when our ears
become mere passageways
for the words to escape.
But, if I’m being honest,
a mind like a steel trap,
on it’s own isn’t enough,
and does not a strong chain make.
Games of telephone
barely ever end exactly right
just try your best, given the situation.
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It doesn’t have to be the end
even for a shard
of shattered glass —
that said, it may need to take
some creative liberties.
And rather than
spend all that time
on the mend,
it may behoove you
to mix it up
and create something new.
Even when rediscovering yourself,
there is no guarantee
that what you come across
will be familiar.
There is always room
where you make it,
every last step
brought you here.
In the end,
everything has a funny way
of coming together.
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Instagram: @thefilepile
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Watch closely,
as I fall apart at the seams.
Every crease
giving way,
every fiber of my being
unwound.
For now
I am the dust at your feet,
the gust of wind
that tosses your hair,
the sunlight
on your shoulders —
I am boundless,
the open sky,
the ether.
A crash of lightning
announcing itself one moment,
and gone without a trace
the next.
Listen carefully,
the thunder tells all,
from a roar to a murmur
the sky shutters,
the air reverberates.
Like the rainclouds,
I wander in circles,
I’ll change my shape
and return another day.
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Inhale
exhale.
Running sucks
and I love it so much.
Ready?
Feel the steady drumbeat
of an active heart,
with quick feet,
deep breathing
and concentration.
Keep on keeping on
until you beat back
that little voice in your head
saying
“I need to rest,
I need to sit down,
I need to reset.”
Inhale,
exhale.
No matter where you go,
you are always here
stay with this moment,
allow yourself to feel
the daily strain —
it wains with perseverance,
Inhale,
exhale.
The only way out
is through —
everything
you were clinging
tightly to
will
blow away,
inhale,
exhale.
Joy washes over you,
as pure exertion
becomes elation.
Ready?
Inhale,
exhale.
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Even bones as good as mine
creak with strong gusts at times —
Really it’s nothing to worry about,
the engineers said so.
I don’t know
when I’ll find the time
to pick up all the pieces.
I’ve never met a deadline
I was unwilling to push back —
it takes quite a while
to build something
meant to last.
But I’m here for you,
and I will not rest until
we can both stand
firmly on the foundation.
When you’re aching or ailing
or when the structure is failing
or you need to reinvent yourself,
or you’re still getting your bearings
I’ll keep you steady all the way.
Only when my purpose is served,
Will I walk away.
Cherry blossom petals
blowing daintily,
landing scattershot
carpeting the lawn with freckles
all the way down —
ashes to ashes.
Mounds of blushing porcelain
find rest
atop
a tire-marked
fox carcass
by the roadside.
“I will bring you home.”
The vulture does no harm,
it does only what it must.
Soaring high
with a keen eye,
for the wary.
An unending journey
to find the lost,
and guide them
back to the origin.
All long walks
must end
somewhere.
Carried on updrafts,
petals blow past
grazing deer
gazing fondly
at napping fawns —
dust to dust.
The File Pile 