The Life of a Walking Esophagus

author’s note:

My best answers come to me too late.


THE LIFE OF A WALKING ESOPHAGUS

When someone asks
What do you do?
I often feel I’m being judged
by eyes blinded by dollar signs.

Maybe next time
I’ll try to open those orbs
by stating this basic truth:

“I’m a walking esophagus
  searching all about
  for what might satisfy
  an insatiable craving for experience.

“I take in as much as I can hold.
  Then try to digest—
  some meals only stay down
  after I chewed on them for years.

“That’s my life, essentially.
  But maybe I should say: that’s ours.
  What do I do?
  I do the same as you.

“And like you
  learn from all I do.
  And in that way, add
  my little bit
  to the big soul bank.”

That answer will likely irritate some
who reject such metaphysical notions.
But if challenged, I would tell them:

"By finding higher purpose
  in all our acts, large and small
  I’ve elevated our lives.
  Don’t you want to live up here with me?"

Road to Somewhere: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

Rebellion of Love

author’s note:

Planning my winter.


REBELLION OF LOVE

One day
(hopefully, still far away)
my body will refuse to stand up
when my warm thoughts grow hot.

Will refuse, refuse—
no matter what tricks I use.

But though held down
by the dictates of nature
I can still rebel
by prying my heart open
and releasing all the love
hidden behind my passion.

Road to Somewhere: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

Music of a Higher Desire

author’s note:

Desire writes so many songs in the heart.


MUSIC OF A HIGHER DESIRE

Sometimes in the bath I’ll sing.

And sometimes a bird outside sings with me.

But I sing:
Oh, how I wish I had wings!
While the bird in the birdbath sings:
Oh, how I wish I had arms!

However, I believe
the bird and I share the same basic desire:

We want to open
the cage of our hearts with song.
So our low notes will rise.
We want to lift ourselves up
to the opera of a new blue sky.

Road to Somewhere: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

Deep Autumn Pond

author’s note:

Meditation isn’t an escape; it's a return.


DEEP AUTUMN POND

Years ago
while lolling in the afternoon sun
angling down through the leaves
I suddenly felt so quiet—

I was a still pond.

But only for a moment.
Soon, a falling leaf rippled my waters
and I rose to my feet.

In the years since then
I’ve tried many times
to return to that perfect moment.

And indeed—
if I delve down deep enough
sometimes the eye of the sun
will float up from the muck
at the bottom of this old pond.

And then I can see in the dark.

For a moment, at least.

Until another falling leaf
ripples the surface
and tells me:
time to rise to your feet.

Road to Somewhere: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton