Sunday, June 3, 2018

Jung Had His Hot Air Balloons

Jung had his hot air balloons floating up into the frigid clouds.
I put on an old mask

that matches my worn shoes
and make my way up the mountain where only the fog blooms.

Black cats and mirrors
hold many secrets—eyes that glitter and flash in the dark.

The queen has her spies,
she rides a stone horse. Her kingdom exists

beneath the veil of our own idiocy.
The world has its shadows and walls.

I sleep in the house of a stranger.
Later I will wake and try to find my way home.