fleeting thoughts
painting blue patterns
across rooms
measured in love-years
passed over
some distant mountains
Within the Ruinous
The cracks let in the light, the dust,
the morning breeze, and me,
As I discover more of how,
with endless certainty,
The mighty are brought low inside
the endless crush of time,
And how poorly I capture this
with photographs and rhyme
Yet still, within the ruinous,
there is a real oblation:
The sacrifice of lives to time,
in every age and nation,
The wheels, the tracks, the pathways sought
that, though, must come to ends,
Once meant (and still mean) life itself —
love, family, and friends.
To share is human:
Narrative Structures
He told a story square and strong,
Then lived within its borders;
Restricted possibilities
But with a certain order —
He never saw again the stars,
The mountains or the sea —
Then died within a narrative
He’d made a
Prophecy
To share is human:
Casual Cruelty
11 trips around the sun
And troubled by no conscience,
I dealt in casual cruelty
But saw no correspondence
In what I did with what I felt.
That strange future horizon:
How everyone’s been bullied,
But no one ever
Was one
To share is human:
There Comes A Time
The choices we most poorly make
Are oft the most defended,
And yet we know what truly breaks
Is never really mended.
There comes a time when we must face
That circumstance is master,
And that we either slow live love,
Or die a little faster.
To share is human:
Don’t Touch the Power Lines
You can love what the power brings,
But don't love the power;
It destroys all who dare to touch it,
And laughs at you thinking
You will be the one to tame it.
Power is a necessary poison,
But a poison nonetheless
To share is human:
{ … the heart that was }
the walls of metal,
caves of steel,
that we made warm
with our four hands
are now returned
to what they were --
and there is nothing
strange in this:
that fabric, love, and flesh
should make
a living something
out of mineral and dust.
what is this light of loneliness
that brings to bear
significance
of things that passed
unnoticed but for those
who lived within this space?
tell me again
why everything
is singing in
the heart that was
and calling out for someone
who won't answer
To share is human:
That’s Not The Way The World Works
Wanting isn't having,
And getting isn't free;
Belonging's circumstantial,
Like knowing where to be --
The things we think that we deserve
Aren't owed to us, yet hence
We think we can create a dish
Wihout ingredients.
The's not the way the world works, child:
Not every nip's a tuck --
For much of what we think we earn
Is little more than luck,
Or blessedness, or happenstance.
In actuality,
We struggle disproportionate
To our
Morality
