boy eight bologna

“the yard is endless world.
boy collects pocketfuls.”

the wonderful of being a boy. glad for it. what else for it?
awareness, richly.
my feets are boy. my heart is boy. my thoughts are boy. my loves are boy.
when i do, i do as boy.
confused and certain
muddy, boy.
and i romp, and fly, tied to stream. send me nonsense possibility
round-about, twirl and not. picking apart and invention.
robots and far away, rockets and explosions
boy is kicked dirt and secret captain cave
couch galleons and old oak forts
boy is monster that can’t behave
ruffled hair and maybe quirky
boy is nail, bent and smirky
dirty clothes and melted candy
grass stains and lots of laundry
skinned knee is patch of experience
frogs whisperin’ mischievous secrets
and boy is boy
no more than boy
adventure and love all in one
crash and burn
the phoenix learns
and away to wonder he returns