Facing Up

My neck is a bumpy field of stubble

beneath a host of acne scars

I cannot conceal

so I’ll accept that you can see me

and seek to reciprocate

if you agree.

I will not compress my space

or fill it artificially.

I’ll dare to unbutton

keeping a gauge on my intention

and will accept the wounds that may come

from exposure.

Rounding Out

I don’t try to be whole

but I want to be bigger

deeper and lighter

to discover what’s in and beyond me.

I continue to feel like I’m about to begin

from points on a circle that tries to complete

while I turn one end of it outward

and the other one in.

The Family Plot

Grandpa classified every tree

before he bought the land

then sent the timber to the mill.

He taught dad to plow

and they tilled the Michigan dirt

until they went under it.

Now it’s in my name

and the property’s gone wild

shrubs and grass returning.

My kids will have to dig

to find their forefathers

as different forms of consumers

with classifications to become.