The sun is setting
long shadows down empty halls
all the doors are closed.
Green grass overgrown
lifeless leaves lounging about
a rusted rake reclined
Motes of dust falling
through soft light from streaked glass
curtains drawn and tied
A nail for hanging
white lace over furniture
they remain unused
What hands have built and maintained
now lie empty and lifeless.
The mountain exposed
bleeds the rain in tears
slowly a river forms.
The sky reflected
carried above as below
wind and water break
Green leaves shimmering
holding tightly to branches
while time pulls them free
Dragonflies prancing
will find no rest in the breeze
they find each other
The sun weighs heavy
the evening lies far away.
Look off into the stoic mountains
the stubborn, biting and cold mountains
There they’ve stood for centuries unmoved
as if born already old mountains
Cutting through the landscape like trauma
the earth exposed by these bold mountains
history stretched past the horizon
tales of violence that molds mountains
that humbled all life to fire and ash.
Let the next species behold mountains
ours spent their lives trying to break them
but only aeons can fold mountains.
The rope is tethered but thread bare
holding on to something while
becoming nothing
a sound is born
in the mind
but…
let’s not hear that for now,
let it hide as it is wont to do.
listen…
You can hear the horizon thinning in the light.
Take from me like marrow from a soup bone, held aloft and alone in raging roiled waters desperate to pull me apart and harvest the flavor inside; a hurried whisper of the fevered soliloquy I once was. Add what you want, reduce me/heat, serve.
Steam coils above
rising from the bowl below
no one is eating.
The universe has brought this moment together
as it has with every other
shaped from the courage of stars
and the tenacity of mutation
manifest as you, here, now.
Four barbs of a flower
buried deep within me
and only digging deeper.
The pain I feel looks like bright colors
smells like velvet and tree bark
tastes like crisp ocean salt.
The pain is warm like love
sharp like satire,
brilliant like sunlight trapped in crystals.
The pain is knowing what a gift it is
to have you here
in this moment
in time and space
but know that you’re not.
Let us just assume they are entangled,
all the particles within your body
mirrored by another as yet obscured,
for definition will find them strangled.
This form is your new future embodied.
Such speed and distance bends space in contours,
the two forms become unaligned in time.
This is when to become the one copied
if you have lived long enough to endure
and let suicide be your final crime
and cure.
The spine is bent and contorted,
a tale told of turns
the author left distorted
yet the inside yearns.
Go, explore the intramural
thought brought out as art;
examine the procural
captured in its heart.
Often the ones exhausted
weigh on you the most
your concrete self accosted
by simple prose.
Words that echo undying
find a hidden break
persuade into complying
and a new you wakes.
There is nothing
without something
giving its life
by way of strife,
or maybe age,
so says the sage.
Is that so bad?
or is it sad
for us to think
about this sink
we are caught in.
We kill to win
or let things die,
if they comply,
and if they don’t,
or if we won’t,
they all die still.
That is the will,
that is the way;
night dies for day.
Crash
an impact
felt
heard
something else;
a sense of knowing,
like a phantom limb backwards.
The mind feels the time
though the time is not there
until it is.
Then…
Crash
and you’re in it
but you’re also not.
outside the body is
another sense.
a sense of self.
Your mind coddles the body
through all the trauma
shushes your cries to muted drama
lost beneath a sea of reality,
pain like bubbles surfacing
popping
merging invisible,
while the mind puts it all in a bag
and sets it aside.
This is not the time.
The tide rushes at you with violence,
and…
Crash
Things break and bend
in contortions unending
as if limbs and joints
all scattered in different directions
to escape the aggression
but found that they were bound
to a body that could only yield
by breaking
and then…
Crash
You are hit with the sense of ending.
Grow Gray With Me 