Drenched

I am not a part of any of this.
It is better to be silent, and still.

I will be a stone
On the stream-bed;

The world
Cascades around

My dispassionate form.
I am inviolate—

To my cold eyes
The world falls dead;

A flood threatens
To bear me off to sea—

The roar deafens.
Silence permeates

The dark carapace
Of my mind.

Sticks and stone
May build a bridge

But the words
They say to me

To bring me back from these depths, no—
They may never reach me.

Resolution

I must remain—
I must hold on

For as long
As I can.

This rope stretches out
Into a void

That drinks light
As I drink air.

Each fiber sinks
Its teeth into my nerves;

My entangled sinews
Are pulled upwards

Inch by inch,
Year by year

Closer
To an end

I cannot see—
The glare blinds me.

This is the light
For which I seek—

This is all that I have left,
Caught along the path

By the daily wax
And wane;

Here I must stay
Until my skin shatters

And my bones crack
Into sand

Once more;
Nothing left

Besides
The silent shore.

[5/6/11; edited 1/6/15 & 3/1/17]

modern love

would it be so bad,
he asks himself
on another night
spent like a thousand
nights before,

to be alone,
to lock oneself away
from a world
full of cuts and bruises;
thorns and thistles–

all the hit and runs
of modern love,
they are meaningless
in the end; they amount
to nothing.

tonight, the stars
shine brilliantly
over a city
full of people
with hollow chests;

they sit low
in the sky like fruit–
you could almost
reach up
and grab them

to bring them down
to fill the hole
in your chest
where your heart
once was–

but all
you get
are shadows filled
with what was,
and is lost.

1/30/17

Winter Rains

Swift winter
Rains fall,
Drown the dead
Lands; nourish
The green ache
Sprouted forth
From the soil.

Cold fingers
Curve around
Cigarettes lit
To stave off
The chill
That encroaches
Like smoke.

Nothing to do but sit
And wait for the storm to pass;
For though clouds
And rain envelop
This fragile world,
Still does the sun
Yet shine.

1/21/2017