My beloved star-shine,
Though these cacophonous sparkles burn bright
They fade: their strength equaled
By the spareness of the dimming sky.
What is eternal?
What you celebrate? Hold in your heart? Worship?
Everything framed in an emotion we would loft
and illuminate . . . ?
My beloved star-shine,
Time is not on our side; permit me my lucid moments.
Around them, living coalesces. In awe.
A captured dream.
No matter the deprivation
we do not lose our capacity
to hold and keep.
Let go if you must:
Though the fear is as real
as the burning stars
We cannot touch it,
only dream out the ignition
as an embrace.
i used to think that fear
was something predatory stalking me
devouring my life
then realized that it was
a defense i could perhaps wield
and not be consumed by
however you cannot always
putting up barriers cannot be coupled
with any other act
Walls are just Walls
(that’s all they are)
The tapestry began to unravel the moment that its weavers pressed their hands into their pockets and wandered out into the dusk . . .
(Why do we ask the wrong people to love us?)
And the portents also.–
Like evergreen needles falling
to the forest floor
something vital yet unbirthable
. . . she wept. Her tears stitched themselves into the atmosphere, a tender portrait now, that Time (though worn and faded itself) brushed with dawning hands, open and content in their airiness.
He opened the glass door
and went out onto the red brick walkway
which gradually cut lower and lower
as if a procrastinating staircase.
He felt a piercing weapon aimed
at his back, heard screams . . .
His mind flooded with panic
while his footsteps remained casual.
When he reached the sidewalk
and turned around, nothing was there
save the aging bank building and
patches of ivy
that passed for landscape.
(His fears were not real
so he imagined their forms
medieval as that made them . . . )
“Dragons,” he whispered
remembering a story from his youth
in which whole villages burned.
“I’ll slay them.”
That’s the promise of suffering:
more suffering.–Until the pain
boils away into a mist of numbness.
Myths remain at their inception
He walked on. The half-grey, half-blue
sky persisted above him.
The white noise of traffic flooded
around him. Voices
of any mood or measure were absent.
Truths unspoken then
could have crushed the universe
or split it in two.
Yet still he walked on.
If I’m served best to run then
I will flee to a higher ground
or a lowly cavern’s embrace.
If I’m to stand still
no better silhouette
could be traced.
Just don’t ask me to conceive of
a place where decisions
are only imaginary.
With all the luck that I’ve had
I’d awaken in that moment
as dice tumbling away . . .
I’m just wondering why I feel so all alone/
Why I’m a stranger in my own life
–Sheryl Crow, “Everyday is a winding road”.
Perhaps I err in giving thought and
should just speak of yes and sorry and perfection.
You say the doors unbar themselves.
Do we speak at all if no one is there to hear us?
We are the mist of each other’s existence
and I want to be water
that runs whether joyous or painful.
So, I have taken several runs at creating an online dating profile in the effort to adequately commodify my best attributes for public perusal. The photo I’ve chosen to represent me in this endeavor is the one following.
Not a great photographical feat by any means. The lighting isn’t great for one and creates some odd shading patterns. But it’s a decent representation of me, I thought. That is, until I submitted it for analysis to Photofeeler which is an app where people can vote on pictures of people and rate them in several categories. I did this with the idea that if it rated poorly I’d try to take a better picture, but if it rated okay I’d stick with it. The early voting results were not good.
Now it’s only ten votes but I was taken aback by that 2%. It’s honestly hilarious. I’m still laughing thinking about it now. It just goes to show you that even when you’re expectations are low, people can go even lower.
At any rate, I’m going to stick with that photo of me, flaws and all. What’s more I’ll leave you with this quote to ponder:
“If you can’t take me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.”
I try to know myself
but it is more than one person can bear
all the shades of darkness and light
and the deep, vacant-like greys.
If you know me better I will praise you but not reward you.
Strength is shared
or it ruins us all.
The cat swatted after the butterfly
Who in a panic to escape
Smacked into the window pane.
The mouse erupted in laughter
And soon was running
For his own preservation.
The ladybug held silently to a blade of grass
Smiling yet humble enough
To remain still.