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Just Another Name for the Devil



Perhaps the thousand-thousand

unpronounceable names for god

wait to burn your tongue,

if, by chance, your babbling

could bring you to the brink

of intelligibility. The thousand

monkey’s theory of Macbeth

could prove true given enough

time. Yet, we’ve been at this

for so long now, one would

assume our relationship

would be stronger somehow,

that I would know your name;

since, I know you know mine.

I’m unsure where you are, or if

you are, or, perhaps, I’m speaking

to myself—all those years gone,

as I puttered randomly about the house,

pulling books off the shelf, reading

a passage, thinking someone nearby

was speaking directly to me, but

only within the context of that moment;

never a sustained conversation,

as between long-time friends.

What can be said, when there’s no one

to hear? If you are not here, then 

what consequence can I be, beyond

these words I speak only to myself?

Unless perhaps, what I speak, and to whom,

are enough of a signature, a singularity, 

to pronounce, with clarity, if only

for this moment, my name into the dark.

(April 12, 2019)

unpronounceable names for god

wait to burn your tongue,

if by chance your babbling

brings you to the brink

of intelligibility. The thousand

monkey’s theory of Macbeth

could prove true given enough

time. Yet we’ve been at it

for so long now, one would

assume our relationship

would be stronger somehow,

that I would know your name;

since, I know you know me.

I’m unsure where you are, or if

you are, or, perhaps, I’m speaking

to myself—all those years gone,

as I puttered randomly about the house,

pulling books off the shelf, reading

a passage, thinking someone nearby

was speaking directly to me, but

only within the context of that moment.

What can be said, when there’s no one

to hear? If you are not here,

then what consequence can I be, beyond

the words I speak only to myself?

Unless perhaps, what I speak, and to whom,

are enough of a signature, a singularity, 

to pronounce, with clarity, if only

for this moment, my name into the dark.

(April 12, 2019)

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New Normal


Trouble pulses, like cicadas

along oak branches through

summer’s heat: pervasive

and cold. It permeates

my blood like a poison.

I worry the times — for nothing

can be done – How does one

take on more than one self,

yet again? Don a new mask

to project a calm certainty

when fear’s fires rage and burn?

I have no place to stand with 

surety. Answers are simple

without people’s constraints:

the constant tug and shift,

like the tight tectonic grind

as ground slips over ground.

(April 2, 2019)