He’s still got the same humour. He’s just lost his sense of it. He
tells the same jokes a fraction of the time.
He was divided from the light for so long
that it all seems heavy.
So much for his diaphragm to lift was that laugh.
He’s on the same trajectory, but he’s further along,
and every little stepRead More »
I am in love enough with details
to be OCD, a poet, self-aware, far too engaged all the time
with every milliquiver of my fibers,
and I think I’m understood,
that my intentionality is seen,
that my terms and movements are known as technical.
But I’ve taught no soul my tongue;
if I do go noticed, I go labeled as odd,
and honestly, nobody cares! They are not in love with me.
And why would they be? I am captivated
by details. I am busy. Making good choices.
not in my lap
but upon my head
the structure pillars walls
collapsed
not in a pileRead More »
Welcome back. I guess you never left, huh?
I didn’t invite you here.
This is my mind- the place you roam, though you’ll never know its streets.
It is daytime here, though you and I are star-blanketed.
All the underground thought-lings come out to play now.
You’re dragged along.
And I am played the brand-new season of a long-dead drama.Read More »
Oh mirage,
translucent ghost!
Tortoise barely ahead of the hare,
child of the warm, lasting hugs from the golden age,
then child around whom I could never secure my arms-
I can tell it is coming, for it’s already here-
love like moisture in humid air, about to rain down.
Whispering through the rustling leaves, tickling my ear,
anticipation comes long before thunder sounds.
I can tell it is coming, for it’s already here.
As vividly felt as transporting scent-Read More »
You think I’m being emotional, (and I am going to use the word but,
but don’t stop listening,) but when I start to repeat myself,
it’s because I don’t think you understand. And you don’t think I understand
that you do, but the times I repeat myself are the times that you think I’m emotional-
that I’m saying something that makes sense but doesn’t really matter.Read More »
This, the point of the yellow-green crayon-
the grass of this light, not too bright clearing,
the trees circled ‘round like an audience
or perfect fence, this somehow bigger than recalled
but still small enough to cradle us,
place of our memories.
Still, with the hunch in my shoulders I sense
a peripheral silence. Sure enough,Read More »
I want to know the Speed Of Slow;
I want to know To Never Know,
to have no Known Idea.
I want to know the beat that peace makes-
Rhythm played
by feet of horses towing Amish buggies.
I want to taste the fruit of labor, ever savoring the flavor-
honest scent that never says nor once implies
that man can fly through time and never
whispers that the times are flying either.
Equivalence-
Movements…
I want to get from creek to peak remembering that every moth
that I walk past is passed by in the sum of beats that leave its wings
while in my presence-
wholly as it should be and only as it could be,Read More »
Innocent,
adorable,
exactly like a lie,Read More »
Alphabet Ravine 