Monday, July 6, 2009

On Being Real


You know how real 
I want to be?

I want to be as real as
The Velveteen Rabbit

whose very flesh

whose very essence 
was rubbed so raw
by Love
and by Time
that he lost all his
fur.

I want to be so real
that when I get to my own edges
those places where my
comfort zone ends
and the big neon sign says,
“Here There Be Dragons”
that I can walk right across
that goddamn edge and
stick my shiny warrior's sword
directly into the heat
of the dragon’s fire
and keep it there 
until the blade 
gets so hot
and burns so bright
that it keeps me warm
the whole night through.

I want to be so real that
when I get to my own edges
those places where 
my comfort zone ends
and the "Here There Be Dragons"
signs are posted
that I willingly
cut my fingers on the thorns
growing on the vines there
and use the blood it draws
to write poetry so good
it makes you cry
makes you guffaw and weep
for God’s sake
and read it out loud
to the birds and the trees
all the way home.

 July 6, 2009

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