Stream of Regret

She remembers them walking this way, so in love; but, as she’s sadly learned, meaningful feelings can be attached to meaningless relationships. For she meant nothing to him, and only the intensity of her own desire ever made her think he did.

Back to School

The modern vein of comedy
Shows back to school
As all about the parents —

And yet, as I recall,
It was (our could be)
Quite a trying time for kids.

It’s funny how
Perspective changes:
Though it never seems to leave ourselves —

But still, the lost and
Frightened ones
Will be expected to know what they don’t know.

But we will write
Encomiums
On how we braved the summer with our offspring

But maybe school’s
About them, and
Not us

Love Selflessly

Love selflessly and you will pay the price
  of what it is to give and not receive –
  the heart of flame, returned with touch of ice;
  a soul encumbered, longing to believe;
  the joy that is, at once, a call to grieve
  within the emptiness of letting go —
    but love is worth it, worth it, even so.

Love selflessly, and time will halt its course
  and lay upon your mind the universe;
  at every turn to press with so much force
  that feels a maledictive sort of curse –
  a swirling mist the heart cannot disperse
  that magnifies what we’d least like to show —
    but love is worth it, worth it, even so.

There’ll be an ebb, of course, with every flow:
  but love is worth it, worth it, even so.

One Big Thing

From certain viewpoints, we are one big thing.
All of our many purposes subsumed
Into a general purpose, tendency –
A type of fate to which our kind is doomed.

It matters not the packages you choose,
It matters little which route you might take:
For viewed from up above, we all are one,
And all we do seems is for the species’ sake.

In hives made out of hives, we plan our ways,
A part within an all-consuming whole;
Perspective shows that we are but a bit
Within a drama where we’ve one small role —

  But this is idle folly, and not true:
  For it is us who reached this height, and view

Tarantella


When looks are all you want,
They’re all you get


We usually take
The image for
The reality,
Because
Our eyes can
Take in images,
Whereas our minds
Can’t take in
Realities


When we can’t change our lives,
We can always change our clothes
Pretending they are the same thing


On the other hand,
Playing dress-up and pretend
Are among our more honorable pursuits


In the end, though,
It’s just us, being us,
And trying to look as good as we can
Doing it —
Envying the handsome boys
And the skinny girls
And whoever else we choose to
Focus our resentment upon —


Or,
If we a comfortable enough within ourselves,
We can just appreciate people for who they are
And what they are good at