Two Nervous People Comfort Each Other

author’s note:

I was trying to come up with something for Valentine’s Day.


TWO NERVOUS PEOPLE COMFORT EACH OTHER

As gray clouds gather
we find ourselves without shelter
in a bare open field.

And so, desperate for comfort
I embrace you and you embrace me.

And as we hold each other I discover
you tremble just as I tremble.

So I try to ease you down
with calming words—
the same words you use
as you try to calm me.

But
my words can’t convince you
and your words can’t convince me
not to worry about our safety.

And so, we continue to tremble.

But at least now
we don’t shake quite as much.

Ironic, I guess:
despite our nervousness
we’re still able to comfort each other a bit.

No, we can’t convince our bodies
not to fear for their survival
as we stand beneath this threatening sky.

But as I hold your body next to mine
I can feel your spirit
just as you can feel my spirit
as you hold my body next to yours.

And so in this moment
we both realize:
even if our bodies fall
you and I, we will survive.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

Raindrops are Pearls

author’s note:

I keep trying to improve my vision.


RAINDROPS ARE PEARLS

When I look at those raindrops
hanging from that branch
I see pearls

because

raindrops seem of little consequence—
here for a moment then gone.

Whereas pearls seem to shine
with a timeless intrinsic value.

I say:
though we enter and live in this world
as raindrops
we never stop being pearls.

Scoff if you want, but
wouldn’t you prefer I see you as a pearl?

I say:
our raindrop life be better
if we always saw each other as pearls.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

The Leaping Deer Sings Like a Howling Dog

author’s note:

“I praise what is truly alive,
 what longs to be burned to death.”
               – Goethe


THE LEAPING DEER SINGS LIKE A HOWLING DOG

When I was young I ran
hoping to lose that menacing shadow
nipping at my heels.

But one day a wise man told me:
you can only save yourself
by taking a long look
at what you’re running from.

So I took a long thoughtful look
and saw:
what a waste to try to escape myself.

Nonetheless
I kept on running
because

the blur of movement
felt so exhilarating
and my fire burned hotter the harder
I ran
and the heat felt the way I thought
life was supposed to feel.

However, in time
the flame died from exhaustion
and I had to lie down in the soft ashes.

But used the time to take
another long look—

because by then I realized:
once seen
a demon can be flipped
onto its angel side.

But as soon as my fire revived
I began to run again.
I ran I ran I ran
in mind, body, and spirit.

Years later
I’m still running.
Yes, the pace has slowed
but with age
I value each leaping step more

and so my exhilaration
has deepened into joy.

I’ve also learned to lie down
before I’m forced
and in those moments of stillness
I not only look down into that deep shadow
I also listen—
I listen, because I can’t always see.

And when I rise
I do what humans do
after they’ve heard the dark river:
I give words to the melody.

With those words
I sing our song as I run along.
And because the child in me
thrives on delight
I imagine I’m a leaping deer singing—
singing like a moon-eyed howling dog.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

My Alien Brother

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.

mythsteps · my alien brother

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

A Brief Reprieve

author’s note:

And that’s probably more than you want to see.


A BRIEF REPRIEVE

I wanted to feel what the poets feel
when they say:
I am a child of nature.

So I decided to go to the forest alone
and throw off all my clothes.
I wanted to feel at one with
all the trees and rocks and birds and squirrels.

But as I began to disrobe
a stern voice within me said:
“Though your skin be bare
  underneath you’ll still wear
  the suit of your civilized self.”

After a thoughtful pause
I then answered,
“Well, maybe so.
  But I’ll tell you why I’m going to try:

“As children, sometimes we’d dress up
  and pretend to be adults.
  That harmless fantasy
  would give us a brief reprieve
  from the frustrating smallness of childhood.”

“Now, in adulthood
  I often feel frustrated
  by the smallness of this civilized suit.

“But maybe today I can get a brief reprieve
  by throwing off my outer armor
  and pretending to be
  a child of nature
  frolicking naked in a forest garden.”

mythsteps · a brief reprieve

Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

Signs of Higher Life

author’s note:

Did this event actually happen?

Yes.  Maybe times.  In different ways.


SIGNS OF HIGHER LIFE

As I wait to cross the blaring street
in the glare of a summer’s day
I feel the urge to elevate above
the dull feeling of the mundane.

So I search for signs of higher life—

maybe someone
in this swarming sweating crowd
shines with the beatific beauty
that comes from within.

But in so many faces I find walls.

The same wall I see in my own face
when I spot my image
on the lens of someone’s sunglasses.

Maybe I built that wall to hide
how I struggle to deal
with all the stuff
this life stuffs into our lives.

Suddenly I feel compassion
for all those people
who like me, struggle behind walls.

Overwhelmed
by that wave of emotion
I lower my head
and prop myself against a lamp post.

In the next moment
someone asks me:
Are you alright?

A show of empathy.
A wall has fallen.
For a moment, at least.

Thanks.  Don’t worry—I’m quite alright.
I answer.

Encouraged
by the concern of a stranger
then I walk on.

Though my wall only fell
for a moment
in that moment
I found the beauty
of two human spirits
and got the lift I needed
on a glaring summer’s day.

mythsteps · signs of higher life

Survival: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

The Goat Faun

author’s note:

Hope you’re enjoying the Solstice season.


THE GOAT FAUN

The child inside
has on occasion convinced me:
we can make our fantasy a reality.

Like the time, years ago
when this fool tried to create magic
by going to a forest clearing
and calling to the goat faun
hoping to draw it from the shadows.

I chose that mythic creature
because the faun combines earth and sky
in the way it plays mad melodies
to the moon above
while dancing with nimble skill
through wooded dale
and stream
and hill.

But though I pushed notes
from my reed pipe
for at least an hour
the goat faun did not respond
to my heartfelt summons.

So I added a dance
to enhance my song—
I pranced
and leapt
and did pirouettes
in the moonlight.

But still no goat faun.

In all the years since
the faun has never once
answered my call.
Yet I keep coming back
to the clearing
because
I can feel
just a bit of it in me
whenever I performed that ritual.
By that I mean:
I feel the joy of wild mischief
and experience
a sense of my own deep earth
a sense of my own full moon.

Yes, all I ever get
is just a little bit
but a little bit of magic
is better
than no magic at all.

mythsteps · goat faun

Myth Steps: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Stop & Go

author’s note:

We’re all explorers.


STOP & GO

We’ve seen this story before:

A seeker runs
here and there and everywhere
hoping to find what might satisfy
a nameless need vaguely sensed.

But exhaustion
finally forces the searcher to stop.

They then try to appease
their desire to explore
by turning their eyes around
and looking inside themselves.

A story much like my own:

The search lifted my spirit
but because I didn’t know
I needed to rest
I eventually felt drained of spirit—
empty.

So then I had to sit
and try to recover what I’d lost.

But luckily I remembered
what I’d once read in a book:
you will find a secret well
down in your dark depths.

Curious what I might discover
but also desperate for a cure
I then delved within.

And yes—
as I descended, I began to sense
a subtle strength rising up—
filling me up
lifting me up

and so I stood again
and began to walk again
and began to run again
and search again
then examine what I found.

I’ve continued that routine
to this day:
I scurry about
filling myself with experience
until I begin
to feel exhausted
in body and mind.

Then I again sit down
and shut up
and begin to delve—
knowing
the well waters will rise
in steady response.

But these days
I linger a while
before I go
so I can explore
those fathomless waters.

mythsteps · stop and go

Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

The Higher Mountain

author’s note:

I say: we’re all taking the same walk.


THE HIGHER MOUNTAIN

When I first glimpsed
that mountain peak
through the clouds
I instantly experienced
an expansion of spirit—

suddenly I saw the purpose
of this grinding walk
up a long incline.

And so
I started to push harder—
I begin to step with intent.

Even so
easy to forget my higher goal
because this life asks me to tend to
so many details.

But when I remember
to look up from my work
I’ll see the peak through the trees and fog
and again feel that lift.

However
all these years later
that white spire still seems so distant.

But I dare not sit on my aspiration—
my spirit would deflate.

So when the naysayer in my head says
maybe you’re creating an illusion—
clinging to a delusion
I answer:

consider this benefit:
these difficult steps I take
not only improve my state
but also the state
of the whole human race
(a little bit, at least).

Yes, my steps help us
as we struggle, struggle
to take a massive step up.

mythsteps · The Higher Mountain

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

The Quiet Resurrection

author’s note:

Robert Bly didn’t tell men to become wild men.  He told us to feel what we feel.


THE QUIET RESURRECTION

The first time he passed those woods
on the way to school
the sight of their dark depths
caused a sudden thumping in his chest.

As a storm began to roil inside him
that boy of six then remembered
the sci-fi movie he’d seen—
maybe a wild creature within
was trying to take control of him.

So he raced away
and after that day
lowered his head
and crept with hesitant steps
around the forest
so as not to wake the beast.

Unfortunately
he begin to use that same caution
wherever he went—
keep the monster down.
That way of walking
became a way of being.
As a result
by the time he’d reached adulthood
his life felt drained of life.

So he bought a book about
“increasing your vitality”.
But then felt confused when he read:
you must let the life hidden within you live.

Okay, but how?
How could he set free
that unknown unlived life?

He then recalled the dark forest
he’d avoided as a boy.

In his desperation he decided:
maybe a little look would provoke
those ashes in his belly.

So on a quiet afternoon he finally approached
those shadowy woods
and crossed the border
into the shifting twilight shade.

As his heart began to thump
he again became that boy—
afraid some untamed force
would rise up from within
and take control of him—
making him behave in ways
that would wreck his world.

But when the fantasy
didn’t become reality
he actually felt a bit disappointed.
Better the ripping transformation
than the drip drip drip of tedious attrition.

Nonetheless
through his act he did find life.

After his expectations collapsed
he was able to wander through
that ordinary paradise
with thoughtless ease
and soon became entranced
by the sound of soft rain tremoring the leaves.

Only later at home
did he notice that gently buzzing thrill
running through him, body and spirit:

the first sign
he’d begun to resurrect
the life he had buried
down in his dusky dusty depths.

mythsteps · The Quiet Resurrection

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Opulence

author’s note:

It’s all true.  Except for the line about lips ravishing a pig.


OPULENCE

The haphazard search
of my youth
led me to many educational places
including
that verdant rolling campus
I came to on a Sunday afternoon.

There, atop a hill
a band played on an electric stage
while young folk sprawled all over the lawn
in carefully-ripped designer jeans.
Bottles passed from hand to hand.
Lips ravished a pig roasted on a spit.

I responded to the scene with this one word:

“Opulence”

and maybe because I’d walked all day
or maybe because highs
are indeed contagious
I soon became thick dizzy sluggish
and slumped to the ground.

But despite my dimness
as I lay there, I could sense
a tired malaise
pervading the festivities.
What could be the cause?

Why didn’t we shimmy with the breezy trees?
Or flow with the glowing clouds?
The big beat did not move us.

As children, we’d loved
the winking wings of butterflies.
But now we only liked.

Perhaps we’d let our life of abundance
numb us.
In just a short time we’d taken in so much.
Too much.  Much too much.

Shocked awake by the thought
I feared for my life.
Fighting fatigue, I stood
and wobbled back down the hill.

Yes, I learned a lesson that day.
Nonetheless
in this land of excess
I usually forget
to savor life in small sips.

But when I stop
and actually feel what I touch
hear what I hear
see what I see
and taste what I taste—

when I become aware
of what I’m taking in
and in so doing, deepen
my experience of life…

I feel a little scared

because then this world
and myself in it
seem so strange.

At such moments
I feel alive in body and spirit.
And know true opulence.

mythsteps · Opulence

finding Beauty: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Fable of the Woman Who Saved a Wounded Bird

author’s note:

Physician, heal thyself.
        -- Luke 4:23


FABLE OF THE WOMAN WHO SAVED A WOUNDED BIRD

Years ago, a young girl
tried and failed
to save a dying bird chick.

A sincere effort.
But what she didn’t know was:
she saw herself in that bird.

Later
she decided to help save human beings
by becoming a nurse.

A sincere aspiration.
But what she didn’t know was:
in so many faces
she saw that dying bird chick.

Later
after witnessing so much death
she decided to help save human beings
by ascending to the pulpit.

A sincere aspiration.
But what she didn’t know was:
she now hoped to save
that dying bird chick
by saving its soul.

Over the years, she received much praise
for her work as a preacher and nurse.
Nonetheless
she still felt a vague malaise.

Finally, in desperation
she asked her mirror
what the problem was

and then
in the reflection looking back
she saw that dying bird chick.

From that point on
she became her own patient.
From that point on
she became her own flock.

Later, she returned
to the twin tasks of tending
to the bodies and spirits
of wounded human beings.

But now her aspirational efforts
produce even better results

and though she doesn’t say
she knows the reason why:

People who want to open
but don’t trust
may open
when they experience
a server who lives in peace—

someone who has saved
her own bird chick.

mythsteps · Fable of the Woman Who Saved a Wounded Bird

Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Spirit Lost and Found

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.

mythsteps · Spirit Lost and Found

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

How Ego Saved My Tree

author's note:

"Poems are made by fools like me,
 But only God can make a tree."
            -- Joyce Kilmer

Maybe so, but we can damn well help.


HOW EGO SAVED MY TREE

Lost, I was—and tired
of searching for new life.

So when I found
a winter woman of deep roots
sitting cross-legged on the ground
behind a lonely gas station
I begged her for direction.

Without a word, she then pointed me
toward a gray hill covered with a stubble of stumps.

Yes, I said, she knows how much
that wounded land needs me—
needs
my merciful healing.

Now, after much uplifting labor
I have finally realized
the obvious:
I feel small when I feel
I’m not needed.

Maybe not the best way to be
but

apparently the ego
can sometimes serve the spirit:

as I battle to save this hill
I am green spring
and I am gold autumn.

mythsteps · How Ego Saved My Tree

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

The Tree Speaks to the Tree Hugger

author’s note:

While you give to me and I give to you
True love, true love
          — “True Love”, Cole Porter


THE TREE SPEAKS TO THE TREE HUGGER

As a tree, I can see
you now fight the need
to release your abundant burden of love.
But please, surrender:
encircle me with your weary arms—
I am here to accept your offering.

As a tree, I know
you struggle because
after so much hurt
you dare not touch
anything at all.

You’re trying to escape—
you’ve numbed the pain
you’ve numbed the love.
Neither living nor dead—
you’re one more lost ghost.

But I trust your higher instinct—
I trust
your irrepressible desire for life
will eventually lift you above your fear.

Nonetheless
this separation pains me.
Yes, humans need trees
but trees also need humans—
I’m only complete when I can be
what I am meant to be:
I need to serve up comfort
to people who need
to serve up their love.

I give breath to you—
you give breath to me.
Not just the physical breath—
neither one of us can live long without
the spiritual breath of the heart.

mythsteps · The Tree Speaks to the Tree Hugger

finding Beauty: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

My Best Guess

author’s note:

My ideas will evolve, I'm sure.  But I don't think I'll find a better best guess.


MY BEST GUESS

As a child I tied myself up

in order to survive.

Now as a captive adult
I work to undo the tangle

because I realize
for my spirit to survive
I must go against
old survival tactics.

What could be the benefit
of a design that creates
so much inner conflict?
My best guess is based
on what seems most apparent:
we are learning to be strong.

First, by fighting for life
as all other beasts do.
Then by fighting for our soul
within the lines of this human zoo.

mythsteps · My Best Guess

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Healing Cough

author’s note:

To all those in the coughing chorus.


HEALING COUGH

As a child I took in
so much toxic stuff.

For decades now
I’ve struggled to cough out
all that suffocating dust.
But

I do not lament.
No—
I write to celebrate
this chest work I’m doing
and to show I'm fighting--
fighting for my life.
I am coming back to life.
I hack with pain
but also with joy.

I want to bellow this song!

But alas
at this time
I can only cough.

mythsteps · Healing Cough

Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

That Relentless Fire of Life

author’s note:

I’ve never been cool.


THAT RELENTLESS FEROCITY OF LIFE

I believed I could find my peaceful waters
if I sat down
and forgot the world outside.

But when I closed my eyes
I discovered a fire flickering inside.
My breath seemed to stir the beast.
The heat intensified--flames began to leap.

What had I done? What could I do
with that growing fire of life?

I witnessed potential hazards:
I saw people flash up
and crash down.
I saw others turn their fire inside out
and devour the tinders of this world.

To try drown my flames would drown my life.
To try to run away
would blow the blaze into wildness.

I had to learn to live with
the gift that possesses.

To help with acceptance
I again sat down
and concentrated down
but this time allowed myself to fully feel
what can still seem unbearable--
that relentless ferocity of life:
what we all hold
what we all bear.

Years later
and my education continues:
I’m still trying
to burn strong without raging.
I’m still trying
to love being a sacrificial offering.

Any success is partial at best.
But I’m at peace with the thought
that I may never be at peace.

mythsteps · That Relentless Ferocity of Life

Listening to Silence: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

The Cliche Tree

author’s note:

I’ve heard we’re in a mental health crisis.

In response, I’m writing mental health poems.


THE CLICHE TREE

Because I felt so weak
I asked the tree at the end of the street:

how can you possibly
grow so green, so strong
in soil so poor
on water so trickly and stale
in sunlight so dingy and pale?

And the tree replied:
close your eyes
and feel your heart
tap down deep into the earth—

and feel your soul open
and rise
in surrender to the sky.

Cliches, I thought.
But in the desperation of need
I did as instructed.

And felt as lifeless as before.

But in the desperation of desire
I waited

and after a long short time
sensed a stirring—
an awakening
amazing to me:

my flat desert slowly grew giddy
with a saturation of rising artesian waters.
I felt as rich as the mole
diving deep in black loam.
My sacrificial kite
burned gleefully
in the fire of the midday sun.

I suppose we say “spirit” and “soul”
because attempts at accurate description
soon sound silly.

So I won’t go on
but finish with this embarrassment:

after a long short time
I began to fear
I might lose myself
so I lifted my lids

to found a street now abundant.

When I then asked “What happened?”
the tree only told me what I needed to know:

As long as you struggle
against weakness
you’ll grow stronger
but
you must stop occasionally
to realize what you truly feel
otherwise you’ll forget
the truth of our bountiful world.

mythsteps · The Cliche Tree

finding Beauty: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Talking to the Wee Folk In Case They Actually Exist

author’s note:

I think you can find mystery anywhere, everywhere.

But some places are just more conducive to the experience.


TALKING TO THE WEE FOLK IN CASE THEY ACTUALLY EXIST

When the hunter sprayed his friend
with buckshot
perhaps he was a little bit drunk
or perhaps you tricked him
because in his callous ignorance
he’d tromped over your clover
with his big clumsy boots.

Or because
you heard him laugh at
a folk legend loved in times past
when people still indulged
their sense of wonder.

Maybe some will say
I don’t like plain facts
but when my goosebumps rise
the plain fact is:
the one within this skin
senses mystery lurking.

But though I like to imagine
that mystery could be you
I know the mystery is probably
something I can’t possibly imagine.

No, forget what I just said!
Of course I believe you’re really here--

why else would I ask you
to forgive this fool
if he slips or trips?
Please, I pray--
I’m not obtuse, just transfixed
by the dark garden
of your forest labyrinth.

mythsteps · Talking to the Wee Folk in Case They Actually Exist

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
myth steps blog
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2023, Michael R. Patton