Friday, June 2, 2023

ENVOY

When you talk 
of heaven, 

it makes me 
think: assisted living

endless 
florescence, 

manic
Pan Am smiles;

nostalgia 
for bitterness, 

abrasive edges, 
panic;

and last but 
not least, an orderly 

or two—
under authority

and paid out 
of pocket 

to profit 
by my insights 

and crucify 
my doubt.


Thursday, June 1, 2023

I GOT WORRY

Our misery 
(god willing) 
may be a 
slender thing, 
but its looming 
casts a long
and a 
powerful shadow. 
In fact, when stooped 
underneath it, 
it's so dark 
and so cool, it puts 
the backbreaking blaze 
of halcyon days into 
startling relief.
So sue us 
if some of us 
choose to savor 
our grief
and recline 
in the dimness 
of its gloom 
where it's safe—
for, as far as 
we recall 
of that bright world 
of mistakes,
we've never even 
seen ourselves 
with a look of peace 
upon our face, since 
the only time 
it might possibly 
look that way is 
after we go to sleep.


Wednesday, May 31, 2023

ASK ANY PHILOSOPHER

It's offensive
how we glamorize 
the groundlessly romantic; 

reckless 
to find ourselves 
so swept up 

in the dangerously 
doe-eyed 
side of fascination. 

Though stilted
and miserly, how much 
wiser by far 

to stuff the soft 
caresses and 
intoxicating liquors—

to shun 
the perkiness  
of flowers 

and the amorous
light verse of
sentimental cards? 

For love is no 
warm feeling; it's 
an existential gesture—

a chagrined-but-willing 
yoking of your slender, 
feral welfare 

to the equally meager—
and no less unruly—
progress of another's.


Tuesday, May 30, 2023

DREAM LOGIC

As sure 
as the imperious, 
sunlit sky

obscures the vast 
networks of a 
needless astronomy, 

this waking life
too, is a mere 
obfuscation  

of your groundless
but illimitable capacity 
to lack.

No tricks; it does 
not matter where
you have been, since, 

everywhere
the black space of 
nothingness tingles,

existence's 
white pulses throttle, 
and hum.

As all 
that you know 
is slowly dissolved, 

you grow to see 
the wide open 
vacuum behind: 

a possibility 
which seemed to exist 
at one time

was, all the while, 
a necessity 
always. 



Friday, May 26, 2023

EQUIVOCATION

How many times 
will I have to change 
my mind

before I turn into 
a brand 
new person? 

Is it sudden 
and discrete—

like the lucky 
millionth customer? 
Or 

must a process 
this mysterious 

happen imperceptibly—
gradually, 

over the course 
of each 
tortured decision, 

compromise, 
agreement, result, 
and resolution? 

Perhaps 
the transformation 

has already begun?—
But it's probably 
for the best 

that I don't know, 
since 

if I did, I am sure 
I would try 

to resist.



Thursday, May 25, 2023

SOLO A CAPPELLA

If it's said that 
the dead 

can still reach 
out and speak to us,
why 

on Earth 
can't our precursors? 
Where 

are all the hasty, slipshod 
mock-ups 
and the models—

all the dinged prototypes 
of our parents 
and kids 

that never got 
the chance to exist? 

Perhaps this 
isn't fiction; 

perhaps 
this unlucky legion 
does whisper 

in the mumbling 
of motors, or the swish 
of tall grasses,

but the words 
that they utter there

are just so 
outlandish 

in their aberrant 
combinations 
of ghastly and ecstatic  

that our ears 
can't bear to register 

the significance 
of their air pressure—

so we walk on 
from the spot, chagrined 
and convinced 

that we must 
just be the 
only ones 

withdrawn enough 
to wonder this.



Wednesday, May 24, 2023

END GOALS

How long have we been 
at our desks 
tweaking the plots

of dreams we 
have yet to dream—
working them, 

kneading,
until we feel 
we can smell 

some faint form
of sweetness 

rising from 
their shells, 

passing right through 
and all around us, 

and then, 
just as quickly
leaving? 


It's so much more productive 
to catalog 
the physical: 

electrons 
and up quarks; 

protein strings 
and ribosomes—

simple units 
of fungible meaning 

that only mean 
themselves.


Self-love 
is a destination 

the same way 
a mirage is:

a brutally-born
hallucination 

which ardently 
beatifies 

the tyranny 
of distance.