Make A Big Sign: with some variation on the words “FREE COMPLIMENTS AND POSITIVE FEEDBACK”
Roll up some cardboard to make a cone, or buy a cheap bullhorn.  Say nice things to people on the street.  No irony, no sarcasm.  If people talk to you, be warm and understanding – see them for who they really are and for who they dream of being.  If they are critical of you or just downright mean – heckling or shouting at you – appreciate their enthusiasm.  Say “Hey, I bet you could really do a lot of good if you focused that kind of energy into your passions!”  Encouraging the good within them.

A word on the opening of Doors:
one has to prepare for a moment
you never can tell what actually awaits
you may think you are entirely sure
and that hubris could cost you your life
you just never know
that’s why they’re doors and not windows

as i step past the threshold and enter
stage left scene change
the buzzing of bodies and hearts humming
alerts & interrupts me, shakes up my condition
i pause to give it a minute to settle
on curves of a new landscape
startled sensitive i FEEL, pointedly, poignantly
am affected by people and pronunciations
i reflect and echo OUR environment
my shells drop off in layers like a line of dominoes
leaving me without protection
exposed to energy exchange
aura osmosis, symbiotic shakedown street
our eyes meet
and i may forget which one of us is me
does it frighten?
does it blind you – my gaze like gauze on your eyes?
do you hide?
i am not looking at you. or past you.
i am looking FOR you. and for me

it scares me, too
a sentence starts and i hope your heart is open
i am juggling emotions but i’m an apprentice acrobat
trying to get you to toss a coin in my hat
i’m a bull in a china shop because a word
can be an opening of a door that you can’t re-latch
several serving sets shatter
and moments can’t be taken back
so brace yourself – i’m tumbling out
i’m undone sloppy & spilling forth
unbuttoned and billowing in the breeze
you breathe into the room
my intention is not to hurt you
i saw the way you flinched when i said
“i love you”

life appears to me sometimes so simple
and i just want to share
but i forgetfully trip over my own feet
trailing tangled shoelaces
i’m searching blind, groping for best guesses
fumbling in the dark, and i don’t stop to think
why my honesty is a weapon
and my bluntness is a brutality
until its too late and damage done already
i try to turn down the faucet
but the spigot wont stop sputtering
and i feel like a Steinbeck character with a puppy
muttering pleading just tell me about the rabbits
i can paint a perfect picture but never have it
i’m holding tight fist grip on nothing in particular
cracking knuckles in anxious distraction

i can never tell if we’re having the same conversation
you play the part of the professor:
a closed and coded cryptologist
and i take this as an invitation
to be a sleuthy secret spy, deduce and decipher
i would embrace all of it
but i feel messy and monstrous
with gigantic Michel Gondry hands
in a dream sequence i can’t pinch myself out of
and i want to Wake Up
be really aware of you, here with me
i want to listen to your songs, ride your trains
taste you recipes and read your libraries
but your books snap shut, windows close
and doors lock with bronze chains
and sturdy oak four inches thick

and i’m trying to find what’s behind door #4
while i’m wide open and windy
cracked and swinging loose from rust and squeaky hinges
my house need maintenance
my heart is a Broken, Swollen Door
no longer fitting its frame
Stephen King hatchet marks, graffiti tags and cat scratches
mud falls from full gutters
leaky pipes, my floor creaks, and brittle walls crumble
and i wonder how long it will take me to fix it
i know it looks bad, but i’m getting equipped
toolbox and paintbrushes
this house could be a home again with some attention
so if you want to move in, you’re welcome
i promise i wont let the ceiling collapse
and until i get the doors fixed i’m sorry for the draft
it’s not always easy to hold a heart with so many scars
and a door is not a door
when its ajar