we know, we know

We have what
we have, regardless
we are aware or
know…we are born, we
live
we die all the while
having
being
living in the shell
of our
abilities, our
magnificent
perfections and our
dismal
failures.

We have all
the time to know, to
ignore
to pretend
that what we have
is not ours, is
not what we
are but
running away, hiding
is impossible
when who
we are is stapled
to us, is cemented
to our soul.

We have this moment,
the same one
we had at the very
beginning, the
same one
at
the ending; we
have what we have
regardless and
it is always
always
always
just
enough.

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ashamed grateful terrified happy

I become more than myself
when, with fear, with questions, with hesitation
I try to create
a new world life place time
and I am my own
father
seeking a new answer, a new
path, a new motivation
to breathe, to wonder, to
live
I transform the last question asked
into the next
moment of time…frozen
hanging as a dust mote, suspended
by trepidation but also
illuminated by the
light
of reason,
& truth…
I see who I am when
I cannot
see who I am:
a mirror held sideways, bent toward
the future, slightly skewed
toward the past, I see
myself now
through the eyes of all who know me
and I am amazed
ashamed grateful terrified happy and ultimately
here
and
now.

I didn’t know.

For years
I remember looking
at myself, my
life…the small and huge things
the microscopic, the
stellar
and seeing none of it clearly
I was too close, too
far away
too involved to see, too
apart to notice;
then
it
changed
because of another
human being…
someone who was
not me, not
my shadow, an
amazing & unannounced
beauty, a deeply
felt awakening
to
feel
love;
wholly unanticipated
and
suddenly
I could see me
a contrast, a
sharpness…what was unfocused
was then clear, what was too
close…unexpectedly
became
not nearly
close enough…and
in that refraction of sunlight
and dreams
I no longer
looked at myself
in order
to see
me.

quiet still hesitant

I don’t know that feeling, when…

…when you meet someone new

today, last week, yesterday but they have been

there for years, for

ever

for so long that you can’t remember them

not being

but you’ve just met the corporeal version;

human v1.0…

not the imagined, visualized

fantasized, dreamt version

well

I met

so hello feeling…

and it’s a hard thing, it’s shaking my head

rubbing temples, closing

eyes and blinking

it’s wondering if this is what it means

to die…to see the thing I’ve

wanted

created

in those corners of my brain

I don’t even

have a name for…

is this

love?

is this real when what it is,

is too correct, too

right…

I want to yell, run

and scream down the wet street

all while

not moving

sitting waiting quiet still hesitant

for

the other

shoe

to

drop.

In that moment


In that moment

that slight tiny little

moment that arrives

that alights on

skin, on the precipice

of beginnings, I am

watching you

through happy eyes

through mysterious

shadows…I see you

under folds, under white
linen, the warmth of meaning

like condensation

coats skin…from my

breath I am falling

toward you, toward

the moment when

we impact when

we entwine, hold our worlds
tightly together…

when the linen sheet

slides away falls from

skin from heights

from the moment

when, watching you becomes
everything

and almost everything

becomes you

in that moment

I am

.

Not me.

Turn the other…I’m trying to learn
how to love evil, to embrace
hate, to be that impossible person
smiling
accepting
being;
because we’re supposed to
be
(someone impossible
said once)…but…
there is so much beauty and
stupidly obvious goodness, so
much other
than hate/evil; it seems like
it is immaterial
unnecessary
needless unless we acknowledge
that we give a shit
but
I don’t
but…

I don’t want evil to exist
to flourish
to be in mind, head, soul
to be allowed
so I refuse to notice, to
mind, to care…to
allow
evil hate danger death corruption
a place inside, a warm spot, a
cozy alcove in my heart
I simply refuse
to be that
impossible person.

she, he, she, he

They amazed each other
in their own thoughts
feelings, but
without thinking, they
let a history of missing words
become
a complex, sad
enervating & unexpected thing
sliding
slowly
standing
between
them; a wall
glued together
with
words unsaid
with too many
thoughts unshared
she, he, she, he,
they breathed in disappointment
…his
…hers
like ground fog, kicked
up around restless
feet…it filled nostrils;
an acrid and stinging
rebuke—it was everything
nothing—it was what could be…
couldn’t be
dreamed
forgotten
he, she, he, she
and while they watched the moment
fall
they were it: the thing
that couldn’t
see
itself.