My Unicorn
My unicorn dances
naked among the dahlias
consuming the blooms;
the firecracker of his eyes,
the snowstorm of his mane
shaking my spirit;
making footprints in the bed
disturbing the neat-ruled suburban edges
with a wild, whole-earth soul magic
come my unicorn, dance me a dangerous dance.
What is my morning
unicorn to me?
causing such chaos in my symmetry.
Why does he fly so
dance thus and thus
prance that unfettered solo
storming my mind
in magical words?
He calls me to
ride, my unicorn
naked among the syllables
leaping the fenced flowers
chasing the thought fox
through stinging nettles of self doubt
catching thorns of criticism
feeling the wind of inspiration
I am gone with my unicorn into the light
dawn
breaking the bars of night.
My Poems Singing.
Will there be any who hear my poems singing?
Or will my songs be dissected dead in dusty classrooms
when I've gone with the unicorn into the night
my soul unbound from the body of my breathing?
Or will my words transform their perceptions until they see,
hear my unicorn, singing insurrection, anarchy?
Safer to stop up the mouths of my poems with earth.