World Vision


He wanders

from wall to wall,

turning tightly

at all the corners.

There are no doors,

nor windows,

only walls;

no light

outside his dark.

(June 4, 2019)

Forced to Speak

Go down the occasions:

the tally marks of days,

weeks, months, years

ago when something

was said, or not

said, or done, or

not done– enough!

What happens when one

no longer has anything

to say; when language

has outstripped

one’s desire to speak?

I’m at an impasse

and fear my words.

(May 31, 2019)

Coupled

At home, they sit across from each other

like a pair of stone-silent gargoyles, when

he sighs to himself as if with remorse.

Looking up, she asks, out of politeness,

“Is something wrong?”  He shakes his head, and says, 

embarrassed that he had spoken out loud,

“Oh, Nothing, just thinking, at least nothing

important enough to say:  just thinking.” 

They watch each other with a quiet calm 

like the still center of a raging storm; 

each happy enough at home not to stir 

up any conversations to avoid. 

Slowly, they fall into their silences,  

starkly alone with their thoughts together. 

(April 18, 2019)

Ecce Homo

There are no gods

to absolve

vain transgressions.

Stripped bare,

little’s left,

but flesh,

and a sack

of broken emotions:

shame, regret,

hollow laughter–

a thin grist to feed

what ever’s left.

The man remains–

the fool!

(December 30, 2018)

Harness

dc1e875558e27a02b862902ad974609a

 

I step out the door,

Another muggy fall day:

Mules trudge through the field.

 

Mud slowly sucks at my step;

I shall fall and become earth.

 

(September 20, 2018)

Quiet Desperation

Katmai-National-Park__508x400

 

I’ve never been free:

approbation and fear

a constant tap-tap

at my shoulder,

as a reminder— “No,

do not go there.

Stay inside this truth.

It’s comfortable here.”

 

Justly, it is never

too warm to sweat,

nor cold enough to shiver.

There are no bears here,

lost in their quandaries

as to my medial decisions.

 

(September 3, 2018)

 

The Only Safe Word is Silence

hqdefault

 

I am not being

listened to means

you are not being

submissive enough

 

do not speak

simply act

on my desires

do not question

 

questions cause doubt

I must not hear

as insecurities

rattle like chains

 

for me to be free

you must not be

 

(June 8, 2018)

Empty Bowl

Empty Bowls Graphic

 

In almost a religious ritual,

he castigates his niggling doubts

in a timid formality of failure.

Even now, as he folds his thoughts

neatly into another inaction,

a new desire falls softly to regret

like crumbs from a banquet table

scatter slowly across the floor.

 

Doubt and regret feed each other

a fetid feast lavished with fear.

He imagines a different world

free from this hunger, where he moves

forthrightly without pity, instead

of staring blankly at an empty bowl.

 

(March 14, 2018)

suicidal abstraction

ghost_girl

 

I drown in increments.

Pebbles added to my pockets,

like time, pull me to earth.

I’m bored with minutia,

the cynical laugh

in disdain’s cheap fear.

My eyes ache; shadows,

like dark angels, run

with knives between rooms,

searching for something

to clean the blood off

the brain-slicked walls.

 

(March 6, 2018)

 

My Own Abyss

 

falling-apart

To resist

My

Dismantling,

 

The nibble

And nip

Of niggling voices,

 

I must stop

Listening

To myself—

 

The snide

Mocking

Laughter

 

Which waits

To eviscerate.

 

(January 9, 2018)