If I understand
correctly, then
I have stumbled
on a rule,
a pratfall,
in my case,
accidentally
into a truth.
Not that rules
or truths must
ever exist
necessarily:
here, where I am lost, is
where the first word falls.
(April 24, 2026)
Category: lost
-
-
In this dream,
I unfold other maps
between petulant winds.
In this place, I am known,but not by this name,
not in this direction.
I have lost my way.It was a mistake
to come here today.
Ignorance always wins,because it does not know
it lost long ago.
Tracing a vein in my arm,I find a way home.
(January 17, 2026)
-
Lost at Sea
by
People try to talk to me.
I hear, perhaps, half,
then, as they go on, drift,
moved as if by tides.
Alone, most days, slipping
slowly from book to thought,
to roll my tongue through words
plays with incoherence.
There need be notes like stones
left as markers to return;
or bits of marginalia
tossed along the shore
to hint towards an origin,
I can no longer explain.
(October 24, 2025)
-
false starts
with tired thoughts
begin
in faltered steps
then end
off trail
vaguely muttering
lost
alone
in the dark
like Gretelwithout crumbs
to follow home
or a Hansel
to hold on to
(June 7 2024)
-
A blood-red thread extends
into the dark. I’m lost
and cannot see the walls
until I walk into them.
I am cold and hungry,but cannot eat my dreams.
I must lose my sight
before I can escape.
Here is the problem:I have so much to say,
but desire’s not enough.
Nothing comes from nothing.
Each moment’s ripe with terror;a bull bellows in the dark.
(April 22,2022) -
this labyrinth has no end
no center in which to be eaten
no twine to trace an origin
just a blind turn toward hopea quick glance back toward despair
one cannot be lost without directionyet our angled descent is certain
I can see the sun before it setslisten to the fuss of squirrel and jay
or be consumed in worry’s fire
there is no clear path to happinesswe are always here
(November 5, 2020)
-
from a work in progress: “Memory and Silence” (83)
without chatter
without books
without the day’s noise
with only gossipy mouthings
within my head
with nothing to shore against
I drown in the slurrygasping for air
(August 2, 2020)
-
“the fog solidifies among us”
–Tristan Tzara
As a dark spider webs
her partly-poisoned prey,
he shapes another wall
around another day.
Beneath his crippled hands
a mausoleum soars
to contain all his fears
in tightly patterned rows.
Each dawn descends to dusk,
as dusk ascends to day.
How one can thus escape,
he cannot aptly say.
Most days are forgotten,
Lost in this clotted fog.
(September 16, 2019)
-
drowning
by
an inch is as easy
as an ocean
to drown, we venture
into waves, unafraid
one is different
from the next and next
rolling vast undulations
toward the horizons
(July 13, 2019)
-
W
“and I am
out with hanterns, looking for myself”
–Emily Dickinson
Despite the lights in the house,
The darkness penetrates.
It assumes positions in corners,
Presumptuous in its domain.
Like lions pace a cage’s confines,
I am lost in loops of thought
Looking for a set of keys
Which will let me inside.
Yet, there is no rest within
Nor without which can comfort
Enough to bring a closure;
Locked in my obsessions,
I worry each item in turn,
Tangled like tumblers at a fair.
(November 26, 2018)
-
My story distorts
the line. The quick
break bends the more
reasoned with its
slow plodding grace,
until it too
puddles like ice.
Then uncertain
steps, upon the
open window’s
edge, slip to air,
and the long fall
feels like freedom.
(April 13, 2018)
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