When i was a kid, i tried to corral the moon and stars, from that tipping red rocking horse on our patio.
I leaned back, thought i was a cowboy, and had a real lasso that i saw
could reach to the stars. I believed to see, then.
I would try to rock back and forth so fast my blood would rush to my head;
i could barely see, and then the rope would extend
what felt like forever, or until it lassoed a star or two.
Later i dreamed i became a tight rope walker between the city rooftops and the Sun–her rays were musical notes in my dream.
Same dream bigger scale, recurred over and over as recurring dreams do.
Later in art school i drew the walker between worlds
but i never forgot that cowboy kid rocking so hard to get the blood running
and hurling that rope out towards heaven
i was like that then, still am.
I like living between worlds
i like to rock fast
i like to corral stars and the sun
and listen to the music in between city and sky.
Whatever we were dreaming as kids
is still true, as it turns out.
Above and below are still connected
in dream, and we are still kids over and over
trying to rustle stars with God.