The moon’s torque turns
Toward another tangent.
I step and stumble drunk
Over uneven ground.
The moon is so far away,
While I am here
Watching the blood pool
Beneath this broken night.
(October 9, 2017)
-
A Moment of Balance During an October Commute
The ghost of a harvest moonFloats like parchment paperOver the pale western horizon.The sun blasts the sky in bloodReds and orange behind meAs I drive to work in a rush.(October 6, 2017) -
Enacting My Age
A breeze sways the trees.Summer slips to memoryAs leaves start to fall.(October 5, 2017) -
Even in the Dark
by
Each moment’s an agony:Vague, indecisive, filled,Like cotton in a woundWith self-abnegation.My thoughts fester, withoutCare, without direction—A viscous ooze tuckedWithin damp crevices.This is not self-pity,Nor bragging as complaint—I live in the landscapesWhich surround me today.Where I’ve come to standIs where I must begin.(October 4, 2017) -
until a fine paste
by
time and lost desire grindwith relentless imprecisionas the night’s flailingsattempt to toss off the daymuscles along my shoulderblade cleave my necklike a well-honed knifethrough a lump of raw meathard and tight they bend melike a crumpled can untilso misshapen and abusedI forget who I used to bethe pestle pounds a pastein the mortar’s shallow bowl(September 29, 2017) -
My Ignorance
Certainty, like god,Is a comfort deniedThose uncomfortableEnough to doubt.I know to sayI know’s a lie,And truth existsOnly as arrogance.There are no words,Nor silent sighs,To bridge the gapBetween then and now.What was said’s said.What’s known, unknown.To claim my ignorance,I know, must be shown.(September 27, 2017) -
Knowing Where One’s at is Too Much, and Not Enough
I locate myself, a miasmaOf diffidence, pinned closeTo the cork beneath displayGlass: a frayed dioramaToo tired to not repeatThe same accusations again,As if change can change any one,As if transcendence will mend.Like a raven’s slow-arced descentAlong the edges of a dead fieldFluttering from bone to wet boneQuestions become irrelevantas the answers circle backTo echo half-articulate moans.(September 26, 2017) -
doggerel puzzle box
Split seed impeachedthrough unquenched desires:no Noah hammersthis obsessive dream;stars cloud the darkhorizon with cold light.As one narrativeresists revision,a tourniquet cannotstaunch the open wound.Blood becomes another sign,another way away;until, an until fails,and all’s lost to dust.(September 23, 2017) -
With Age
by
I have no balanceAnd cannot juggle.My handsCannot holdAnymoreAwkward shapes:Polygons, rectangles,Too many, tooOdd and bulkyIn broken fingers.Today is today,Yet I flood itWith yesterday’sAnd tomorrow’sThinking.I know timeToo well, I chokeOn splinteredSeconds,The clotted hours. -
What Do I Know?
by
It’s hard to seeIn the day’s dazzle—Too oftenOut of habitAnd negligence,I fail to noticeMuchOf everything.Each step forwardShimmers like lightOn water, a rippledPath expandingTo disperseExhaustedAt the edges.Each moment glistensPossibility’s radiance.I stand withinA lambent circle;An auraOf misunderstandingsFlutter like feathersAlong my skin.(September 20, 2017) -
after silence, no echo
he’s simply a toola means to her endsas he was each momenthe couldn’t comprehendit was enough to be noticedto be of some interestso he danced on her stringa sad distraction at besthe has said he’s slowto decipher such nuancehe hears an entreatyand is newly entrancedhe knows nothing’s thereyet he dances with air(September 17, 2017) -
I am Not You
by
I write into myselfa space to survivethe expectations and liesthat have become my home.This is no autobiography,but a bald accusation,of anyone who daresarrive at a readingand not see themselvesinscribed upon the page.I have become myself,naked and exposed,despite interpretationsformed in other’s woes.(September 17, 2017)
