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author’s note:
In memory of Gary Booker, Keith Reid, and B.J. Wilson of Procol Harum.
Blokes, I hope you’re enjoying your new tank. Send a sign if you feel inclined.
MY ALIEN BROTHER
One day at a cathedral-like aquarium
I watched an octopus in a tank
pulse its body up through the dark water
by throwing its tenacles out
then pulling some unseen string
and bringing them back together again.
I saw the force of life in those propulsions.
Where does such energy come from?—
how can a dinner of little fish
possibly be enough to keep that engine going?
As I pondered that question
I again began to feel
the energy that pulsates
through my own physical frame.
Like the octopus
I seem to be plugged in.
But plugged into what?
Can we ever see
behind the curtain of this mystery?
I asked the octopus.
But all the creature wanted was to enjoy
its rhythmic jaunt through the murky water.
Sometimes in an odd hour
I’ll turn my thoughts to that alien brother
and again feel the quiet thrill
of expanding my small mind
by trying to imagine
what secrets might be revealed
if I could ever
pierce through the veil.
Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2025, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
To all the penguins out there.
WHY I LOVE THE PENGUIN
Why did I respond so strongly
to that penguin video?
Why did I nearly cry
when I saw that little fellow waddle
over the white Antarctic ice?
And why did I sigh
when the bird plonked
into the chop of the sea
then glided
in intelligent undulations
down and down
through deeper shades of blue?
It flew through the water
on wings that before seemed useless.
Maybe in that waddler
I saw how I usually am in the world.
And maybe in that sleek swimmer
I saw my secret desire.
When I go below the surface
I feel the grace within.
A quiet intensity that defies expression
so for the purposes of this poem
I will call it “soul”
knowing that those who read poets
will understand
what I mean when I say:
I feel more grace, more soul
the deeper I go.
But I’ve never been able
to go deep enough
to know pure grace, pure soul.
Like the penguin
I’m only able to stay under a short time
then I must emerge
to waddle around on the ice once more.
I enjoyed the penguin before—
it looked so cute in its tuxedo.
But now I love the penguin
having witnessed
its deep desire for soul.
Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
I don’t have the ability to play music. But I do have the ability to listen to music.
THAT WISE WOMAN ON GUITAR
On a twilight evening
in a foreign town
the fog crept in so thick
I could not see
where to point my feet
as I walked a deserted bridge.
So when I heard
a deep piercing melody
coming from a guitar
I decided I should follow
its thread through the gray drift—
maybe the player could direct me.
And soon I found
a small clear space
walled all around with cloud—
a sheltering bower
a sanctuary.
In the center, stood
a white-haired woman
in a burlap gown.
Her feet in sandals on cobblestone.
With eyes closed
she made those perfect notes
with fingers both gentle and strong.
Though I hated to interrupt
in my desperation, I said a clumsy:
“Hello, can you help me?”
Without opening her eyes
or pausing her playing
she then answered in a weathered voice:
Close your eyes and listen
and you will find your way.
The watchdog in me suspected a trick.
But I’m also a hopeful fool
and in my need
I ignored the protest of reason:
I shuttered my eyes
I stood still
I listened
and as doubt and impatience
slowly relaxed
I began to feel
all those soft confident sounds
move down into my depths
until they found
the higher spirit
hidden in the shadow.
I remained in that peace
for a timeless time
before the hunter in me said:
now, go forward.
So I opened my eyes.
And in an instant, the music ended.
The woman had vanished.
But hey—so had the fog.
Now whenever I feel lost
I close my eyes and listen
until once again I hear
that wise woman on guitar.
Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
Alas, I decided to delete my favorite line:
“I stopped squirming like an unearthed earthworm”
OUR SECRET TRUTH
Dreams know where we need to go.
So last night as I slept
an unseen force
lifted me up without a touch
and hung me up
in an open black space.
Though the room had disappeared
I could still see my bed
below in the darkness.
So I tried to wiggle free
knowing I could expect a soft landing.
But whatever held me
would not release me.
And as my anxiety mounted
I begin to fight
and when my struggle proved futile
I fought harder, then harder still
until I feared I might go mad
if I continued
and so
I forced myself to stop
and let my frame sag lamely in the dark.
Then I waited—
enduring the tedious torture
of being pinned—
waited
until the child within
finally surrendered to the situation
and quit whining.
And when the noise cleared
I then sensed
the strength within my soul.
And so my torment ended.
And so I woke from the dream.
So easy to forget what I’ve got
until I’m forced once more
to rediscover that secret truth.
Get the Message: short guide for understanding dreams
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton
Michael Patton
sky rope (subterranean rappel) 