Big Thoughts

A movie theater.
The kind they used to make
With a shameful amount of seats,
And plush, large chairs, red velvet curtains fringed in gold.
Vaulted ceilings that could touch heaven,
and the energy of the audience,
their tears, laughter and excitement all rolled up
into bite-size pieces.

That magical feeling of a new place,
the vastness of it.
An even better thing when it's
a familiar place you've seen,
really seen, for the first time.

The morning, the deep heavens
peeking through the crystalline air.
Night-smells and the incandescent feeling
of being the only one within miles
awake and out. The power
of knowing that the show's just for you.

Music.
My god, Music.
Banal and untouchable, the rhythm
that beats in us all. The emotions, the diminished chords
that strike, that leave us a wondering child,
better for the experience.

Christmastime and snow, but not always together.
Any Event, really.
Satin gowns and twirling figures caught up in bliss
like toddlers being delightedly swallowed
by a bin of colored balls.
Any occasion that has the same feel,
that pricks your soul just to test that you're alive.

Home and all that means. The kitchen on new years' day.
The loss of a loved one, or the healing process
And the realization of your own mortality.
All the revelations and tribulations,
All the ego, all the shyness,
all the longing to break free,
All the life this world has to offer,
Everything that dwarfs my existence.

The Badlands

Here in the badlands, plants that can’t be eaten
Litter the ground
And animals that can’t be caught
Flourish and abound.

Here in the badlands there is suffering
Heat smothers like a
Freshly-dried blanket
And the winds, they
Howl mercilessly, leaving everything
Deaf and coated and numb.

And here, the badlands, they
Are resplendent in their primal beauty,
A churning, roiling heavens
As the sun touches the lands to the west.
Land of the Big Sky,
An airy monolith, an unforgiving master.

In the badlands,
Men and women live
And die, work
and lie in sweet repose.
Make love,
Tell stories and eat fruits
As if they were delicacies.

The badlands crush you
With heat and aridity
But build you up strong for a life
Outside of the roaring sands.