Young, Dark, and Dumb

She was a craven, brown-haired avalanche of self-torment

But to see her broken-glass smile made our sacrifices slip away

Day by day

She showed me the way

Through the dark parts of living

Until I was nothing and she knew it.

I blew it.

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First Snow

Here I am,

looking out of the window

at the season’s first snow

wondering

what it would sound like

if every flake

had a shake-

a sound, an electric vibration

and together,

a snowfall convocation,

musical jubilation!

An infinite concert

with the harmony of chaos,

and the melody of the cold,

on a mountainous stage.

How different Winter would be,

but here I am, quietly

looking out of the window

at the season’s first snow.

The Living Mountain

I miss all the beautiful Florida girls,

but I love the mountains more.

These hills and valleys have seduced me

and I’ve worked my muscles sore.

I am a life-giver,

my children are all plants.

And Spring, for me, is eternal.

 

Word.

The words are dancing in the street, and playing in the trees-

concentrating on my feet, biting at my knees.

They pass by overhead, they crawl in the dirt,

some are said, and some drip, drip on my shirt.

Words ebb and flow and fade and show

where my mind is going, with body in tow.

 

Mourning Morning

Sometimes when I wake up, before I open my eyes, I imagine that you’re lying next to me again. Your sleeping frame is so familiar as I slide my arm carefully around your waist and kiss your side lightly up to your shoulder. As your breathing changes and your eyelids flutter, you turn your head to face me. I want nothing more than to see your eyes open with loving recognition again, to see you smile, but I know I won’t get out of bed if I let that happen. So I open my eyes, drink in the empty space next to me, and start another day.

Modernity

Breathe it in, the air is plastic,

day and night, Illuminati illusions.

With factory-assembled dreams

we chase the seasons

and age like we were taught.

The sheep are incomparable,

anchors line the shores-

we thought we had freedom,

started new-car smell wars

but the boundaries were fixed.

 

We have another way of being,

freeing, like living blind

and finally seeing, 

with a feeling like stealing 

candy from a popcorn ceiling,

ways of dealing without kneeling,

or reeling at sea in our metal storm.

 

 

I walk that way but wander back

and after an earthy embrace, 

I’m setting a path, making it permanent

stone after stone, with every step that falls.

And Wilderness will have her revenge,

growing over the way back,

but every step is solid,

and forward stretches out

in every direction.

Contentedness

The spark

that starts a fire

that burns the world

in its desire

to conquer life

and bask in pain

it burns its way

through my brain

never stopping

no relenting

i pray to God

and i repent

nothing works.

It’s burning me

and in its glory

turning me

I see it now

hot and bright

pain is good

in this new light

the fiery depths

of my new mind

burn intensely

pain is kind

it takes away

thoughts of woe

flame devours

all the sorrow

that rests in me

and weighs my heart

it burns away

and tears apart

how did i live

without this flame,

drowning in me

before it came

now I’m free

to wade through life

choosing pain

instead of strife

momentous relief

blinding light

disbelief

horrific sight

poetry pouring

from my wrist

it might’ve been different

if I’d had that kiss

of ever-elusive

contentedness.