Ok, here are some things to get you started. Keep in mind these are all copyrighted, so they're mine mine mine. :)
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Pavlov Would Be Proud


Places to go, things to do,
scurrying through a winless race,
The alarm clock, the traffic: my stimulus.
I know the drill; pay the attendant, park the car.
I wait at the curb to cross the street,
not using the crosswalk is my defiance to routine.

I wait for the red light and turn to find I don't wait alone.
Another subject seeming to salivate for the promise of a paycheck,
yet he seems pre-occupied, impatient, rather than lulled by the day-in, day-out.
"Late for something?", I ask, knowing I'll get no reply.
Craning his neck past me, he looks to the left, eyes sharp and intense.
Then looks right, checking for traffic, as if it's something he's been trained to do.

First foot raises making him look like a pointer,
Steps into the street- no wait, one more car- then across he goes.
He trots to the median; I follow, sure he'll not pause there-
but no, he waits, again checking left and right for obstruction.
Satisfied with the lack of cars, he crosses the remaining distance to the opposite curb.
I bask in my fascination, my day disrupted in a most unique way.

For a stray dog living on the street, there is more purpose in his step than my own.
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Groove Creation


Create me.
With your synth-organic rhythms
and beats from the heart,
make the body electronic.

Sustain me.
Keep the pace,
pumping the force of life
like a peacemaker in my chest.

Enlighten me.
Loops of cascading beats
synthesizing blood music
circulate through the passages of my soul,

Filling every corner
of what I am:
Organic matter in symbiosis
with undulating cadence.
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Winters Off Lenape Road


Sun feigns heat
in a clear slate of blue above;
I gaze upon pale, brown hills and fields
through the smoke of my breath
wishing it would at least snow.

There was talk of cow-tipping
when I was in fifth grade,
but cows would've broken their necks.
Ground covered in frozen grass
is no comfort for fallen cows at 15 Fahrenheit.

Our small lake
transformed into a debating ground for skaters and hockey players,
each vying for control over the weekend's
primary source of entertainment.
(The dreadful alternative: afternoons shopping with parents.)

When it finally snowed, a wonderland was made,
a knee-high, get-out-of-school-free card.
We charted expeditions in corn fields, wooded creeks
and stone-colored barns that were beguiling in the white
of Chadds Ford pastures like untended English castles.

Woods like a Pollack of burnt sienna and white,
their only sound is weight of snow bearing down on limb.
Beyond those whispers, just a roaring silence
when I'm still as ice fingers
trying to touch the ground from the roof.

The cats of Baldwin's Book Barn nap easily within,
as we dig for a pearl amongst makeshift shelves
full of hard-bound reads for snow-bound youth.
These felines, grown, need not the words,
but the pages themselves for fine beds.

A blue-white glow from outside casts a cold light,
illuminating prints of Helga and Christina's World,
a reminder to all who live down the road.
On such a winter day, I didn't care to remember
that soon there would be Spring kittens in the books,
and a lake full of children's swimsuits.
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-Cosms

I let the sky be my tent tonight,
a sparkle-filled indigo field
like a Star Trek transporter.
I swirl the stars with my mind
as my body says, "Energize!".

My destination: points of light,
any one of which could be a hive
of beings living, working, playing
in a mirror of the musings originating
from the sleeping bag in which I lay.

Rolling over to feed my notebook,
a firefly insists on sharing my pen.
Among his friends gathered about my flashlight
is a dragonfly twisting and turning its head
in a display of 360 degree impossibility.

"Do it again!", say my wide eyes,
then I'm shushed by a distant Canis howl.
The trees carry its magic to me like
a powerful totem, making me wary,
reaffirming our instinctual similarities.

Relaxing, I smile goodnight to its echo,
shoo the Insecta from their little electric campfire,
and turn my face again to the Universe
while whispers from a nearby stream
provide a soundtrack to twinkling above.

Gentle air pulls its blanket over me,
while scent of earth and pine
send me dreaming of cosmic fireflies,
blinking their lullaby in rhythm
to the ecosystem powered by my heart.
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