Field of Interpretation

Let writing dance around
like music notes,
bring rhythm to your fingertips,
juicing your heart.
Leaving only a field of interpretation,
What your mind thinks.
Let it leave spontaneous convolutions
of an expected manner.
The feeling when you sit with friends
and feel a part of the jigsaw image that is being created.
Warmth, with a simple smile.
Not just a facial spasm.
Let writing dance
in a field
that never ends;
to music that
only the heart
can hear.

Little Grass Feet

I love the thought of little grass feet,
Barefoot mandatory.
Electric Static from
Hand-Held magic,
though there is always room
for a lesson:
lectures from our favorite willow
or the midnight
pillow of earth,
coloring in the stars,
shining sharp the
questions from the past.
Oh, where do we go
when we step outside?
Because it certainly makes me feel
right at home.