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In the Blood

The lie of my truth

visors the angle

of my descent.

I have no face,

but reflection,

a mirror

to lace assumption’s

discordance.

My flesh contains

shattered selves—

a prismatic array,

where each shard

bends an image

of itself into another.

This truth lies

along an edge

of broken glass;

it slices the air

with ribbons of light,

like tall grass

cuts children’s legs

as they flee through

the last summer fields.

(August 15, 2019)

Motion

one stands always at a beginning

a new door opens to a passage

which leads to another door

which opens wherever you are

there are no keys no locks no doors

only you standing within time

in motion without moving

yourself a passage a sluice

through which apparitions slip

taking on your form like robes

then quickly cast away replaced

by yet another without end

each moment embraces death with a kiss

each moment finds your self reborn

(April 16, 2019)

Preponderance of the Great


from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress

I worry too much,

or not enough,

yet do nothing.

Here at home

cats curl

in our laps;

when friends visit,

the table’s full,

laughter and wine

flow unabated.

Far away

along the edges,

below the ice,

cracks appear;

and, the ground shifts

beneath us.

(March 7, 2019)