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author’s note:
Another failed attempt to write a love poem for Valentine’s Day.
AFTER THE CLOUD IS GONE
While walking through
an empty field last week
I spotted a roiling cloud overhead
and thought of the ways you shift
when waking in the morning.
The desire I felt then
stirred up a deeper desire—
to my surprise, I again felt the love
I’d declared dead over a year ago.
But too quickly
your rounded shifting shape broke
into little tufts
which the wind then swept away
leaving only empty sky above.
But the love remained.
However, with the cloud gone
I had no object to focus that love on.
So I gave the feeling to the whole sky above.
Though I thought myself a fool
I felt compelled to raise my arms
to that open blue vista.
What a powerful release I felt then—
a burden of emotion lifted from my body—
suddenly I felt so clear. Blessedly empty.
As I confronted the magnificence of the infinite
I felt joyfully insignificant.
But what exactly did I love in that moment?
What did my arms want to embrace?
God? The sky? The Universe?
All of the above?
What?
The question lingers
but I’ve stopped trying to answer
instead
I think about what I felt in that moment
in order to spur myself on
as I try to find some other way to summon
that strange liberating love
up from my depths.
So now
I’d like to thank you
for passing by that day
then passing on
so I could discover
my deepest desire—
a desire even deeper
than my deep desire for you.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2026, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
“What a feeling!”
— Irene Cara, “Flashdance…What a feeling”
WHEN I WENT FOR MY WATERFALL BLESSING, I FOUND A DIVINE DOG
PART I
Today I went to visit the waterfall
as I do whenever
the mud and dust
of my life in this world
just seems too much.
When I stand beneath
the water rushing down
I imagine a blessing descending
on my bowed head—
cleansing me.
So when I emerge
I feel clear again
and for a moment
again feel the purity of my spirit.
But I believe we’re all
pure in spirit.
I need that belief
in order to accept
all the mud and dust
of our life in this world.
PART II
But when I arrived
at the end of the forest trail
I found a dog playing in the pool
beneath the waterfall.
Possessed by a dance, it was—
leaping up
trailing beads of spray
then landing down
in a winged splash—
a joyful rebellion against gravity—
a joyful acceptance of defeat—
spray
and splash
spray
and splash—
ecstasy.
But I’d come there for a blessing
so I waded around the canine
and stepped into the curtain
and let the full force of the fall
pound my head relentlessly.
The water cold but hot in its intensity.
Soon overwhelmed by sensation
I lost every dull thought in my head.
But when I stepped back out I saw
the dog had stopped its revelry.
Standing still, it stared at me—
head tilted to the side. Puzzled
by my trembling solemnity.
I didn’t want to ruin the dog’s frolic
by causing it concern
so I then began my own splash dance.
Which broke the spell—
in an instant the creature joined me.
We jumped up and down
and barked and laughed
and my feeling of purity
meshed with a feeling of joy.
Again I was the child I once was—
the one who’d rebel
against the mud and dust of his world
by going into a ritual
with just one rule:
dance—dance—dance
dance like a divine dog.
Myth Steps: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton
author’s note: I hope my computer doesn’t realize what I’m saying about it. SPIRIT LOST AND FOUND Often after hours of tapping on this flat keyboard these fingers will begin to malfunction. But I can easily fix my digits by going outside for a spell to see…to breathe…to feel. My spirit then wakes wakes as that high-spiraling vulture lifts my eyes with its glide wakes as that all-knowing stone says silently: sit down and ease your doubt wakes as I share an embrace with that oak tree merging heaven and earth. My spirit wakes to their spirit. As for this hypnotic mechanism… maybe it lives, but without spirit. As a result, while tapping I often feel too much alone. So when my hands say stop the cause is not merely fatigue but also the weight of alienation. Lifted when I escape to the elemental reality of rock and roots and leaves and wings. Yet I return to the manufactured reality after just a short recess because with this cool tool I can grieve publicly over spirit lost and also share the joy I experience when I resurrect my spirit.
Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton
author’s note: “We experience a dream as real because it is real.” – William Dement DRUMBEAT DOWN IN THE WELL When the mower suddenly died that day I said: “Must be a sign from above!” and lay myself down on the lawn. Then as I eased into a half-doze I detected a pulsing murmur-- perhaps a distant drumbeat for a ritual dance of men, women, children-- a tribal circle reaching up to the circle of the moon: a celebration I might find by going where my shadow pointed as the sun sank in the west. So I stood up and began to walk or maybe I only dreamt I did-- in any case I traced that quiet seductive summons across a broad savanna through the starless dark until I arrived at a well round as a drum-- its waters reflected a full moon. I knew I’d reached the source yet the sound had died down so I listened down down into that glowing whole and as a result I began to feel the beat softly echoing up from a deeper chamber of my heart. I knew then I was the ritual circle dancing-- reaching up even as I listened down. I understood: I celebrate this life every day with every beat-- even when I feel dull gray--even then I’m still amazed by this mystery we’re in. Then having finally realized the obvious I returned-- finding my way back with natural ease because I was no longer lost. But though we go back we never really lose what we’ve gained, do we? I can still hear that deep drum-- even now as I mow this sunny lawn.
Dancing to Raven’s Song: a novel
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton
Michael Patton
sky rope (subterranean rappel) 