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

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
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

A Hungry Man

author’s note:

I’ve always been hungry.


A HUNGRY MAN

Having failed to find a way
to distinguish himself
through normal group activity
our hero decided on a project
where success depended solely
on his own effort and resolve:

he would prove the strength of his endurance
by starving himself.
Not so much as a mere morsel would pass his lips
for as long as he could resist
the temptation.

So after leaving a note
that fellow lay himself down
in a dark cell below
and welcomed the pain
of claws tearing at his stomach walls—

an agony he withstood
until his digestive system finally
stopped sending messages
and grew cobwebs down the tract.

For days
our wasted hero lay curled on the floor—
pleased with how he’d repeatedly said “no”
to that stubborn demand.
Nonetheless
after all the failure in his past
he felt he needed to prove more.
But what more could he prove?
Well, he could open the scariest door of all:
Death.

Fortunately, at this point
a team of experts
saved him by saying:
if we allow you to go on
we’ll be somewhat responsible
for a loss that helps no one.
So here—come on
have some chicken soup.

Just the excuse he needed:
our skeletal hero could now stop
and feel proud of his willingness
to sacrifice all for achievement.

But he didn’t boast of his triumph—
hunger had taught him humility.
Besides, he’d already silenced
his biggest critic:
himself.
Now he could accept
being an average human being.

But maybe he wasn’t so average now.

During the darkest part of the ordeal
his gray eyes had shown
with a deep silvery glow.
No, that light didn’t last
however
associates now sense
a strange power emanating from him—
even as he ambles
in those scuffed brown shoes.

Nonetheless
none of those who marvel
at the change in him
have chosen to starve themselves
as he did.

Perhaps they understand:

Daily mundane life provides
every hungry human being
with plenty of opportunity
to lift
to lift
to lift
themselves up.

mythsteps · A Hungry Man

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