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Confession as a Form of Explanation

My story is true in so far

as it is my story. The lines

I must maintain for my belief

to be justified are many.

I fear questions lest it all falls

like a child’s tower of blocks falls,

tumbled across unstable ground.

Although I know that the truth lies

for I formed each one on my own,

turning them over and over

like rosary beads until smooth,

they still allow me to believe

each stone lies firmly on the next.

With no one to doubt what I say,

the facade I have built is real

I explain to myself myself:

I live forms of happies

As long as the ever after,

and the hero is always me.

(June 30, 2019)

Coming to Meet

from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress

It’s always so simple to trust

an Iago’s words to lift

a bland darkness over

the light like a veil

to hide a leper’s face:

I allow myself to degrade

myself, ignoring my better

angels as if they exist

only as shallow hubris.

(April 26, 2019)

Deliverance

from “Renditions of Change,” from a work in progress

The storm breaks

with the new dawn.

(March 29, 2019)

Retreat

from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress

I wait more often

than react– more often

a squall line doesn’t form

but disperses in the hills.

I know you will

go, and I’ll remain.

(March 21, 2019)

Grace

from “Renditions of Change” a work in progress

To pitch lit matches

at gasoline is not the way

to shine a light

on small irritants.

Yet, I have my tinderbox

ready to strike,

my clothes are soaked to skin,

waiting to burn.

(February 21,2019)

Language

Syntax chains words

To you as if preordained;

There is no control.

(December 27, 2018)

Chromosome Damage (work in progress, part 3)

(41)

The sideways shift and snip

Clatters across the sand.

It’s easier to move out of the way—

Trouble passes, one remains

To proceed with plodding step

Along one’s path.

(3)

Time’s slow arc

(34)

All the variables led here

As inevitable as this morning’s

Sun striking the sycamore’s white

Bark; no god laughs as our choices.

(14)

A left, a right, a yes, a no:

Life’s crushed to binary.

(16)

I close an eye

To see the obvious

Connection: the moment.

(15)

I stumble step across a bridge

Swinging above a crevasse.

(21)

No saints guide us home,

Nor care how far we fall.

The emptiness opens

Like an aura.

(43)

This morning everyone sleeps in

As fog drifts between the trees

Near the creek and the gray sky.

The last brown leaf has fallen

From the sycamore; the solstice

Passed under a full moon.

(30)

Dusk and dawn, progressive

And simultaneous, flow through

The landscape. Yet, we think

Our futile actions have consequence.

(19)

Like you,

Light bends

Along each wave’s edge

Into separate

And singular parts.