A Skirmish (2012)

The sign reads “perishable”

and the arrow points toward you.

My Grandma’s mind is wandering

and maybe yours’ is too.

How far a flight you fancy?

Responsibility left at home,

instead you packed your demons

went a trampling for your throne.

Well you may have claimed new mountains

new sunsets, salty seas

but you left the townsfolk praying

for your safety, on their knees.

Fortifications surround your mountain castle

moats and ditches that you’ve dug,

but I wonder if you’re lonely up there

without a friend to give a hug.

Breathing (2012)

I should probably be meditating on

rivers, how they flow without

a care,

like the wind in my hair

like the time you put

nair all over your legs

hoping for a solution

and the stinging offered promise

but the chemical pollution knocked

you unconscious, scared and

frightened you came to,

leaving me wondering what to do

but you pulled through

I don’t know why I thought

of that, I hope you’ve

learned your lesson

and that your actions

aren’t determined, by your

thinking you-are less than

because of your

humanity, or stupidly rushing in

to stoke your

vanity.

I should probably be breathing,

letting go of all attachments.

Would-be Buddha, wait, scratch that.

That was my ego did you

catch it?

Not too long ago you called me

attractive,

-and my heart raced like THAT mattered.

Pitter-patter, I was flattered,

wondered if the rest of me was also,

like my personality, my actions.

Fat stacks of wealthy accomplishments

Richly-rated relationships

    guaranteed satisfaction

affirming others as if

            overcompensating

sympathetic in my reactions.

But all of this is my attachment,

Each thought, each memory breathed

-tingles the strands

in the web of my

         attachment.

I should concentrate on nothing,

I should focus on the absence

    But I find delight in my grieving,

                Overcome by strong emotion

                I long to release in purged

                                                     Explosion

They say the universe is exploding

    ever outward in

                     waves,

                                excited energy

    Galaxies,

                grieving,        just the same

                                                           as me

and in-between, a void, a nothing,      or perhaps

the true long lasting              connection

                                       in this

                         ~breathing~

but today,

                I’m enjoying my own reflection. 

Of master and craft (2012)

I am a barrel maker

       a craftsman,

                         a master of my art

smooth edges, no seams

                     no rough spots

and I use only the lightest of

woods                                  the

illusion of elegance.

There is a perfection in a piece that

                                seems effortless

as if the Gods had grown it,

as if the shadows and empty

spaces were the only thing

that knew it,

                     invisible, seamless,

           but not vacant.

   Invisible to all but

        the very patient

the canister swells in the

heat,

        growing full,

                             a mixture

of nourishment,

                        of missed opportunities

and not forgotten intimacies,

           of longing and nervousness

       grief, jealousy and enjoyment.

I am the master,

                                and the craft

Buying a Corporate Bond(age) -Jan 2013

Harmonious and cutthroat, selfish in a handshake, a gift becomes a gamble, a thrashing moral handful, let me lift the weight off your shoulders, humble you with bricks of shame by the spoonful, each break, each pause, each tumble in the market will catch your eye, your mind and pry deep into your soul, where once you yearned for relationship we can provide a hole that slowly carves out your capabilities to trust or empathize, we’ll make you wise, replace your why’s with certainty and fortification, welcome home sign the papers, we’ll take away the burden of community leave you king in isolation...

The Heart and the Draw Bridge (Jan 2013)

 Contemplation of a reason

“Its me” she said…


 -staining my teeth brown
with attempts at forgiveness
                syrupy delicious memories
intoxicated
             in pheromone bliss
fighting the urge to stay
in exile,          reemerging a former consciousness

Dreaming big grippy hugs
Susceptible to flirtation
 logic takes the back seat
to sensual admissions
 forgetting temporarily
the magnitude and wealth
       of our anxieties
 the rich causes of our
         shuttering
the weather proofed
         arguments
the
      perfectly
measured
      restraints

The picture drawn beside it

from risk taking

What if, I loved you for just a moment? 

“It’s me” he says




(It doesn’t always feel like breaking, sometimes it feels like finding yourself whole.)

Original